


The Sweetest Thing in Life is Love

by Depressedstressedlemonzest



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is fat of course, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable eclairs, M/M, No Angst, No Sex, No Smut, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Sweet Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sweet Crowley (Good Omens), soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 164,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressedstressedlemonzest/pseuds/Depressedstressedlemonzest
Summary: Bakery Human AUAnthony Crowley is a demoted cake decorator at his family owned/ran Lucy's Cafe. His parents died when he was younger so he grew up with his jerk uncle and his cousins.Anthony is recruited to win the war at London's Baking Festival, his uncle wants him to spy on their arch enemy in the bakery business (due to long family rivalries) the owner of the bakery A Little Slice of Heaven.Aziraphale Eden runs the bakery that his grandfather left behind, A Little Slice of  Heaven, when his uncle decided he would be the best in the family to run it, even though Aziraphale wants to open a bookshop. Aziraphale hopes that if he wins the London Baking Festival that it will prove him worthy, and capable of opening a bookshop.Anthony is sent to spy on and get close to Aziraphale so he can sabotage him and be sure to win the competition.Can you guess what happens next?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 419
Kudos: 215
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!  
> This is my posting for the Good Aumens event!
> 
> Just a couple of warnings.  
> Crowley and Aziraphale's families are all dicks.
> 
> Crowley's treat him like he's worthless.  
> He grew up in that environment and it left some bad things in his head.  
> He does have anxiety and anxiety attacks.
> 
> Aziraphale's treat him like he's incompetent.  
> He is fat and there are some fatphobic "subtle" things his family says and does. Aziraphale has a couple of close to internal fatphobic thoughts.   
> Aziraphale is also gay, his family doesn't like that, they ignore it basically trying to shove him in a closet by trying to set him up with women.
> 
> I promise promise that this will have happy points and an absolutely in love Crowley and Aziraphale. 
> 
> If anxiety, depression, references to fatphobia and homophobia trigger you or bother you please take care of yourself and skip that portion of the writing. 
> 
> Alternate names so no one gets confused.  
> Bee is Beelzebub   
> Danielle is Dagon  
> Hans is Hastur  
> Laurent is Ligur  
> Stan is Satan  
> Gabriel is Gabriel  
> Uriel is Uriel  
> Randolph Is sandalphon   
> Michaela is Michael
> 
> 💜💜💜

“Oi! Why did I get thrown down here? Might as well start calling this place The Pit! I can’t even interact with the new souls milling about when I’m down here! And I need a bloody fan it is HOT down here!”

Anthony Crowley shouted up to the top level from where he was kneading dough down in the lower part of the split-level café where all the ovens were.

“You whine too much!” his supervisor Bee shouted back down to him.

He heard her small feet step closer and clunk down the four stairs that separated the levels of Lucy’s, those big boots they wore to seem taller only making them noisier.

“And because you were asking too many questions about the inventory versus the pricing and salary Anthony, we’ve been over this. Dad has his favorites and you aren’t one of them.” they added with a smirk crossing their arms over their chest.

Hard to believe they were chosen to be the customer service counter faces, as so obviously sweet they were.

“Oh, but I’m the one who he chose to “Win the War”.” Crowley said pausing his kneading to make air quotes with his long nimble fingers as he glared behind his sunglasses.

“Yes, just because you’re the best cake decorator we’ve got doesn’t mean you’re the favorite family member or staff member. Do best to remember that next time you question anything Crawly, you are the most disposable among us. Don't forget that.” Bee said with a mean curl to their mouth.

Anthony gritted his teeth, and tried not to react to the name his family had called him when they were young. 

Moving into his uncle's after his mother died, there were expectations of him. If he didn't meet them, then they would throw that name and words at him.   
He was nothing, almost less than nothing, begging just to be loved.

He shook his head slightly and went back to kneading the dough, until he heard Bee walk back up the stairs.

Once the coast was clear he took out his cell phone and with a flour covered thumb he ordered some fans for his new workspace, since he didn’t seem to be leaving it any time soon.

He heard the creaking of the back door and he jammed the phone back into his pocket just as Hans and Laurent came in. The snitches they were, they would tell Bee or Danielle that he wasn't working one hundred percent of the time they saw him, then they'd tell the boss and that wouldn't be good at all.   
Though, Anthony couldn't think of a lower position than he was already in.

"Well Crowley, how's the bread coming?" Hans asked with a sneer as he tied an apron around his waist and washed his hands.

"Just great Hans, how's the, wotsit, the turtle?" Anthony asked, purposefully trying to be a pest.

"Eve is a Malaysian Hodgeback toad, you know this Crowley." Hans said sharply as he started to carry the tray of cookies that were finished upstairs. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow at the exchange.

"Laurent, how's the lizard?" Anthony asked as he began forming the bread to the right shape in the pan. 

"Chameleon, his name is Geoffrey, and he's fine. Been trying to get him to turn orange." Laurent said grabbing a basket of strawberries and began slicing them up.

"Orange?" Anthony asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah he's got green and brown down, some white speckles, but I want to see him turn orange."  
Laurent said utter seriousness in his tone.

"Maybe sticking him with a traffic cone would do it." Anthony muttered.

"Tried that already, he just looked at me with his funny twitchy eyes." Laurent said sincerely continuing to slice strawberries.

"Well then, right." Anthony said, not interested enough to think of a response to Laurent. 

Anthony turned his attention back to the dough he had been kneading.

Once his knuckles began to ache he knew it was time to let the bread rest.  
He shaped the bread into a boule and he scored the loaves and put them in the oven that had been preheating.  
Anthony set the timer for 25 minutes and hollered up the stairs to Bee, "I'm taking my lunch break!"

He quickly skirted out the door before they could object, and hurried to his car in the back parking lot.  
Once he was in the antique Bentley his father left him, Anthony sighed and reclined the seat as far as it would go to where he was laying down.

Anthony closed his eyes behind his sunglasses and started massaging one hand with the other, deeply pressing each knuckle and slowly rubbing out the soreness that work, especially kneading dough, always gave him. Starting with the fingers he worked his way up to his scrawny forearms and rubbed his thumbs gently.  
Once the aches gave way he let his hands rest on his chest and sighed deeply.   
He thought about his new position at Lucy's and how he did not want it. 

He wanted to be designing and decorating cakes, drawing designs for the birthday parties, weddings, baby showers in town. The last cake he did was this beautiful two tier ten inch round cake that had blue and purple frosting mixing together to look like galaxies, with edible glitter painted along the borders to look like stars.   
He had dyed the cake batter light blue, pink, and left some of it white, he also added a lemon zest curd between layers. He even used some pieces of edible rhinestones to make a couple constellations. It had been for a "New Birth Day" for a transitioning customer whose name had officially been changed legally to one He chose himself.

Anthony smiled at the memory of the broad grin on Declan's face when he saw his cake.

A sharp series of knocks on his side window pulled him out of his thoughts with a start.  
Danielle was standing there smiling, as innocent as a piranha with fresh meat.  
Anthony slowly raised the drivers side seat up, and even more slowly turned to look at Danielle.  
"Boss wants to see ya." She said with her hands on her hips. 

"Mm, right, be right there." Anthony said. 

He waited until Danielle walked away after voicing an exasperated sigh before slowly getting out of the car and heading to the boss's office. 

He took the front entrance instead of going through the back and dealing with Hans and Laurent again.

He tried to shoot the three customers inside a smile, but it barely met his eyes.  
He looked at the black tile floor, watching his steps, the glint from the cold chrome countertops catching on the tiles.   
He glanced up to make sure he wouldn't be running into the flimsy barstools that lined the black and red and gray dull walls. The lighting made the place more grim than it needed to be. He took a left at the wall dedicated to computer users and headed into the office. 

"Uncle Stanley, to what do I owe the pleasure of a one on one?" Anthony said in a faux cheerful voice as he plopped into the chair across his Uncle Stanley's desk where he was seated.  
Big ugly desk with gaudy little plastic figurines on it of little devils in various costumes.  
Anthony picked up the one wearing a kiss the cook apron.

"Is this one new? Did Bee get it for you? They were supposed to let everyone sign the card." He said sarcastically as he set it back down. 

"Zip it Crowley. " his Uncle snapped.

Anthony raised an eyebrow and sat back silently. 

"Anthony, you are my half sister's son, and for that reason, and that reason alone I tolerate you here."

'So the swelling music and family bonding isn't going to be today I see.' Anthony thought to himself. As he looked at his uncle steadily.

His uncle was a tall man, Anthony came in just under his chin. He had thick black hair that was coiffed into a pompadour, sometimes when the gel wore out the cowlicks he had would form little horns above each ear. He had an arched nose that pointed sharply at the tip, in fact everything about his face was pointy. Pointed nose, high cheekbones, (which Anthony's mother had passed to him) pointy chin, the only thing not pointy were his dark green eyes, which could be squinty when he smiled, but Stanley hardly smiled. 

As evidenced by now, his forehead lines were extremely prominent by the scowl on his face.

"Bee says you've been whinging about the oven room again." Stanley said with his gravelly voice.

"No no, not whinging! Merely noting on how I'll be nice and toasty this upcoming winter without having to buy a new coat. " Anthony said with a casual flutter of his hands.

Stanley snorted in response.  
"You don't fool me Anthony, you've always been a whinger, not surprised you're still whinging about everything, from scraped knees to now. Knock it off about the oven room or I'll be putting you on janitorial duty until Bee takes over the cafe." 

Anthony winced, he didn't think his job could get worse, but apparently it could.

"So Bee's next in line for the throne of Lucy's? I thought it'd be Danielle since she's the oldest of your kids, my cousins." Anthony said, faking a chipper tone.

"Half cousins, " Stanley paused to remind Anthony.  
"Danielle would be next in line, but she isn't as smart as Bee." Stanley added with a smirk.

"We are an intelligent family." Anthony retorted.

Stanley grunted as a response but didn't say anything further. He just silently stared at Anthony, unblinking, waiting for him to say something foolish.

"Did you need me for anything else Uncle?" Anthony asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes I did so keep your arse in that chair." Stanley said practically baring his teeth.

"Of course, of course, wasn't planning on leaving beloved Uncle!" Anthony said leaning against the back of the chair.

"Zip it Crowley," his uncle paused, always one to remind him that he didn't really belong here. At this job or with this family, he wasn't really a Deville, but a Crowley. 

"Now, you know and I know that you are the best cake decorator we have, possibly the best baker as well." Stanley started.  
Anthony nodded slightly, not knowing where his uncle was going.

"And you know that I want you representing Lucy's at the Cake and Bake competition at the Excel in London. " Stanley said, pausing to let Anthony process his words. 

"What you don't know, is that A Slice of Heaven is entering this year too." Stanley said leaning back in his chair.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, "Don't they enter every year?" He asked trying to remember, Bee and Danielle had done the competition last year, he had just done some setting up and tearing down, didn't look around much.

"They do, but this year, I think we can finally use you, to win the War."  
Stanley said with a devilish grin.

Anthony barked a laugh, "win the war?" He asked, "you make it sound like the new Napolenic Revolution. " 

His laugh shrivelled in his throat when he saw the look on his uncle's face.

"Didn't your mother teach you our legacy?" He asked in a deep throaty baritone. 

"Um, she told me how our family, my great, great, great, grandfather, had been ripped off by his friend, who had stolen his, er, apples. So we started our own business, instead of making pies in the village we made bread and stuff like that right?" Anthony stuttered out under his uncle's glare.

Stanley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
"The gutter snipe didn't teach you any more than that? We're all supposed to know this story before we can walk. And here you are giving me that shit." 

There was a heavy silence for a moment, the air was tense with Stanley's irritation, Anthony didn't want to say anything further to piss off his uncle, he's seen him when he was mad, and when he was furious. He was at a happy medium.  
He held perfectly still, barely daring to breathe.

Stanley sighed tersely, "your great great grandfather Lucian , and his best friend Goderyc had the only apple tree in the village, they would sell the apples, make them into breads, and cakes. They had dreams of moving out of London, the money they were earning with the sales they were planning on moving to Dublin."

"Why Dublin?" Anthony interrupted with a cocky smile.

"How the hell would I know? They wanted to be potato farmers instead of apple for all I know." Stanley snarled.

Anthony's smile disappeared from his face.

"But that bastard Goderyc took the last of the apples, and left Lucian without a word. He left Lucian to crawl out of the pit he had left him in all alone and without anything to his name. Lucian struggled through that winter, almost died from hypothermia. Then as he's clawing around in the dirt scavenging for something to eat he discovers a new type of leaf that he found out when brewed makes a new flavor of tea.  
That got him back from the brink of death, and the more he grew and sold the more successful he was, all on his own. Until he brought his own children to the business, and now here we are." Stanley finished.

Anthony knew he wasn't done with the family history lecture, so he didn't reply.

"That is why we don't hire outside sources, only family. You are always bonded to your family no matter how far away you run, though, you are a loose interpretation of family, you still have some Deville blood in you, even if it is diluted. " Stanley said with a mean gleam in his eye.

"Right." Anthony said with a little nod, the pain from those statements didn't hurt as much now as compared to when he was a child.

"Back to the topic at hand, I want you to represent this business, this family, in the competition this year." Stanley said leaning against the back of the office chair.

"Thank you, that's a, it, I mean," Anthony stuttered trying to express his gratitude? Surprise? How flattered he was?

"I'm not finished." Stanley said flatly while Anthony tripped over his own tongue.

Anthony gave a small nod and waited.

"I want you to slither over to the shop, A Slice of Heaven, see if you can get some inside information on him, more than what we already know. Maybe see if you can figure out what he is baking for the competition so we can win, sink his win, sink his business, win the war." Stanley finished with his proposition leaned back in his chair with a small smile. 

"So instead of, trying to do our best and meriting on our talent and expertise, we're gonna cheat? Then drive this guy out of business?" Anthony asked trying to not seem surprised.

"I can't rely on you to win. This will guarantee we win. Then after we win the prize, we will buy the pile of dirt his bakery sits on, demolish the bakery and leave him impoverished and destitute like he did Grandfather Lucian." 

Anthony didn't know whether to be disgusted, surprised, hurt, or insulted. He tried to keep his face in one emotion, but he started biting his lower lip.

"Shouldn't we just, do our best and let bygones be bygones?" Anthony half whispered.

"Bygones be bygones?" His uncle snarled slamming a hand on the desktop. 

Anthony flinched at the noise, remembering how when he was a child his uncle would throw things when he was angry.

"You are challenging my authority again Crowley, you think you would have learned from the last time! This man is responsible for everything bad that has happened to this family because of what he did to our grandfather, and you sit there as if he did nothing!" His uncle shouted waving a hand.

Anthony wanted to interject more, but he was so tired, and there was no winning with his uncle. There was however definite losing, he had much to lose if his uncle felt so inclined, his job, his livelihood, his passion.

"No, no you're absolutely right Uncle. I will start first thing tomorrow with trying to infiltrate his bakery and come up with my plan for the Baking Competition. I-I'm sorry to have doubted you." Anthony said looking up at his uncle's face.

“Very good.” His Uncle said.

Anthony was quiet for a moment.

“Are you questioning my orders Crawly?” Stanley snapped as Anthony flinched at the harshness of his uncle’s tone, and at the nickname.

He was suddenly thirteen again, he had broken a window and his uncle had screamed at him, threatened to make him sleep on the broken glass as means of teaching him to be less careless. He could remember his uncle’s flaring nostrils, the color of his face as he shouted, the hate in his eyes as Anthony struggled to sweep the glass through the tears he was trying to hide.

“You may live here boy, but by no means does that mean I am supposed to love you. I promised your mother that I would take you in, and only because you are family, I did. I have four children of my own and by no means did I need a fifth mouth to feed. You will do well to remember that, that I don’t need you, but you need me.” He hissed as Anthony had swept, sniffling, trying to hide his pain.

Bee, Danielle, Laurent, and Hans had just ignored the scene, continued playing on the play station that Anthony wasn’t allowed to touch. Not that he had expected them to jump to his rescue or anything. He remembered the scene of him finishing cleaning up the broken shards, on his belly on the floor so he could see close enough to make sure he had gotten every bit.

“Might as well call you Crawly, you’re just like a snake, belly in the dirt, squirming at our feet.” Bee had said smirking with glee, earning a grin from her father.

“Worth less than the dirt you’re crawling on.” Stanley had snapped in addition to her little quip.

Crowley had cried for his mother that night in his bed, like he used to when he was younger after she had first died. He knew that she had wanted him to stay with her half-brother, because he was family. And she thought Anthony being with family would have meant he was safe, better off than at some orphanage. She knew her brother had a temper, would sometimes get nasty with her, but she didn’t know he would do the same, even worse to her son. Or she wouldn’t have had him stay there.

“because if you are,” his uncle’s voice was bringing him out of the memory, the growling biting tone to it immediately grabbing his attention, he glanced at his uncle’s face, his eyes were still dark and emotionless as they used to be.

“I will make sure to question your employment here at Lucy’s, as well as the lease I helped you get for your flat.” Stanley finished with a curl to his lip.

“No Uncle, I just was merely, mulling it over in my mind. On what, what I should do to get the trust of the baker that’s all.” Anthony stuttered out.

“He seems to be a very gullible sort, it shouldn’t be hard, you should even be able to do this task.” Stanley said with a derisive snort.

Anthony nodded once and then rose from his chair, “Well I better get back to the oven room, I have a loaf in that should be coming out any minute.” He said the words spilling out quicker than he meant them to.

Anthony walked out of the room, trying to get out quickly, but didn’t want to let his uncle see his nerves.  
He shut the door behind him and then took in a shaky breath as he leaned against the doorframe. He closed his eyes and counted to thirty as he breathed slow deep breaths.

Once he was less amped up, he slowly ambled back to the oven room, the stench of burnt bread and a beeping alarm guiding the way.

“Fuck.” He said as he pulled the loaf that had been in the oven out, the boule black and smoking.

He cursed to himself as he tossed the boule outside by the dumpsters for the pigeons to feast on.  
As he waved about a dish towel to clear the smoke Bee walked by smirking.

“Bugger off Bee.” He muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared and the smell wafted, as Anthony started working on another boule, he began to think of what in the hell he was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!  
> This is my posting for the Good Aumens event!
> 
> Just a couple of warnings.  
> Crowley and Aziraphale's families are all dicks.
> 
> Crowley's treat him like he's worthless.  
> He grew up in that environment and it left some bad things in his head.  
> He does have anxiety and anxiety attacks.
> 
> Aziraphale's treat him like he's incompetent.  
> He is fat and there are some fatphobic "subtle" things his family says and does. Aziraphale has a couple of close to internal fatphobic thoughts.   
> Aziraphale is also gay, his family doesn't like that, they ignore it basically trying to shove him in a closet by trying to set him up with women.
> 
> I promise promise that this will have happy points and an absolutely in love Crowley and Aziraphale. 
> 
> If anxiety, depression, references to fatphobia and homophobia trigger you or bother you please take care of yourself and skip that portion of the writing. 
> 
> Alternate names so no one gets confused.  
> Bee is Beelzebub   
> Danielle is Dagon  
> Hans is Hastur  
> Laurent is Ligur  
> Stan is Satan  
> Gabriel is Gabriel  
> Uriel is Uriel  
> Randolph Is sandalphon   
> Michaela is Michael
> 
> 💜💜💜

"The Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord. For giving me the things I need, the sun and rain and an apple seed. Yes He is good to me."  
Aziraphale sang to himself as he picked apples carefully off of the branches of the tree he was currently picking beautiful red apples from.  
Aziraphale continued to hum to himself as he reached precariously on his orchard ladder to reach the last ripened apple on the branch.  
He reached until he was finally able to pluck the apple from the tree and gently placed it in the apple picking bag that he wore around his torso.

“I believe that will do for today’s gathering.” He said to himself as he climbed down the ladder.

He carefully walked to his wagon and emptied the picking bag into the bushel bin for the apples he had picked that day, just enough to make two weeks worth of pies at his shop.  
He grabbed the wagon handles and pushed the wagon to the barn.

As he walked with his days pickings he appraised the people that were also at Eden's Orchard fruit picking. There were so many couples with their significant others, grocery shop vendors, and general workers that his family had hired, up on ladders, pushing their own wagons, and sneaking bites of the apples they collected.  
He nodded and greeted the familiar faces he saw, but kept going on to the inside of the back of the barn. 

The back of the barn was set up for pickers to weigh out, pay for, and box their fruits and load them into their vehicles. The front entrance served as an Eden's Orchard General Store, where patrons who did not want to pick their own apples could buy them already picked. As well as various other fruits and vegetables and homemade jams that his family procured.

Aziraphale walked into the back, the concrete floor cool below him, the big wooden inner walls of the barn smelling of antiquity and home, the steel and aluminum barn door rolled open for the patrons to weigh their bushels. He brought his wagon round to the scale and hefted out a bin to weigh. He waited for the scale to display a weight and then he scribbled it onto a notepad and pen that he pulled out of his pocket.

"Aziraphale, here for the weekly order?" A voice echoed behind him.

He turned and smiled.  
"Hello Aunt Uriel, yes I'm here for the weekly order for the shop. Lovely apples this week." He said transferring the bin of apples back to the wagon.

His Aunt's usual haughty expression didn't change with his comment.  
She extended a slender hand for the slip of paper with apple weight. Once Aziraphale had given it to her she stalked off.

His aunt was not a people person, but she knew the business as well as his uncle Gabriel did, though he was more on the business end and Uriel on the customer service end, and she did not slack by one pence when dealing with customers.  
She passed the swinging door that was an alcove of offices nestled in the back corner of the general store belonging to his uncle Gabriel and the field managers.

His other uncle Randolph and aunt Michaela chose that moment to come through the swinging door seemingly arguing.

"We cannot use 4 wheelers to get around the farm Michela." Randolph said with a sneer, his gold tooth gleaming in the light.

"Well why the bloody hell not? We used to use those stupid Gator's and they're basically the same thing." Michaela retorted with an uphilt to her voice.

"Hello Uncle Randolph, Aunt Michaela. " Aziraphale greeted as they drew nearer.

"Aziraphale." Michaela returned with a small smile.  
She was slightly more friendly than his other aunt, but he hadn't grown up in her home.

"What do you think of the new uniforms?" She asked as she stopped in front of him gesturing down at her clothes.

Aziraphale studied his aunt's outfit, she was wearing a pair of white overalls with a golden E stitched over the top pocket.

"Lovely, though, is white a, wise decision? Working on a farm and all." Aziraphale asked with a furrowed brow.

"Well since we are the field managers we won't be dealing with nearly as much farming as the field hands. Their uniforms are the same standard blue. These set us apart." Michaela said hooking her thumbs through the pockets on the sides.

"Ah, very good point." Aziraphale said with a weak smile.

"Aziraphale, don't you think a four wheeler would be more fun to drive about the orchards in?" Michaela asked with a manipulative smile.

Aziraphale glanced to his uncle Randolph, who made an irritated tsk noise.

"It doesn't matter what he thinks about the subject. He is hardly ever here and when he is, he is gathering supplies for the bakery, not here working the farm like the rest of us." Randolph said with a sneer.

Aziraphale gulped.  
Both of his uncles were very stern growing up and very set in their ways, and weren't afraid to tell you how they were feeling on matters.

"Well, ah, I think, that the gators were good vehicles, it was too bad that they got vandalized." Aziraphale said without answering Michaela's question outright.

"Bloody Devilles and their pack of demon spawn children." Randolph said with distaste dripping from every syllable.

Michaela and Aziraphale made agreeable noises.  
The bad blood between the Devilles and the Edens were well known throughout the area.

“So what vehicles were alternative to the four-wheeler in the choices for maneuvering about the orchard?” Aziraphale asked with a small smile.

“He wants golf carts.” Michaela said disdainfully wrinkling her nose.

“They are small enough to go through the orchards without disrupting plants as well as patrons.” Randolph said with a sneer.

“But they are so old fashioned!” Michaela shrieked with a stomp of her pointy fashionable boot on the concrete floor.

“And I suppose you want hovering boards? Keep us up with the youth?” Randolph asked with a disgusted look on his face.

Aziraphale tried to keep a neutral face, he knew if he made any indication of any feelings now his aunt and uncle would use them against him.

“Might as well just get a cart attached to a mule.” His aunt said with a huff before she stalked off towards the back of the barn where an old busted Gator was waiting for her.

Aziraphale and Randolph watched as she hopped into the little buggy and tried to turn the vehicle on. A cloud of black smoke burst through the tailgate before it sputtered to life and chugged down the orchard path.

Her face looked pinched even from this distance, and the usually well-kept bun on her head looked like it had been put through a wind turbine, it had fly aways sticking out every which way.

“So Uncle Randolph, how have things been for you? I see that business is bustling as usual this time of year. Seems as if the field hands are keeping everything in tip top shape. Under your watchful eye of course.” Aziraphale said with a slight quaver to his voice, turning from his aunt’s departure to his uncle’s stern form in front of him.

“Bloody field hands are lazy plonkers; they think working here will be all fanciful like in our brochures for the guests and they come up here like little pansies not wanting to sweat and work.” He muttered distastefully.

Aziraphale tried not to make any facial indications that he thought his uncle was being quite the hypocrite, he and Michaela sat in their vehicles all day while in the orchards, not breaking a sweat themselves, keeping cool air blowing on them, and having readily available cold drinks. Whereas the field hands would pick up to fifteen bushels of apples a shift.

He must have been unsuccessful because his uncle’s gaze shifted to him, “think they aren’t lazy do you? I don’t see how you would, you do less than them. Gormless mug you are, too busy making pastries and reading your books to do any real work.” He snarked.

Aziraphale tried to keep his feelings buried, he didn’t want his uncle knowing he was getting a rise out of him, a mix of emotions was swelling, and he wanted to respond, to stick up for himself, ‘you think I want to be running the bakery? I really don’t, I would rather be opening a shop of my own, but you all insisted that I take over the shop when grandfather died.’ He wanted to say.

“Well, perhaps one of these days I could come work with you and see how it is here, since I haven’t worked in the fields since, oh since I was a boy.” Aziraphale said instead, trying to keep his voice light.

His uncle snorted and barreled past Aziraphale, his balding head starting to get a bit pink on top.

Aziraphale sighed and grabbed the bushel bin of apples to carry to his truck.

As he walked he held the apples steady against his torso, didn't want to bruise any of them, the muscles in his arms had grown strong over the years, hauling all the bins and bushels of fruit since he was a lad so it was rather an easy task for him.

Though his arms, as well as the rest of his form had a soft exterior, there was muscle underneath that was evidence of strength that he had worked up over the years.

He gently placed the bushel bin of apples in the bed of his truck, the wooden slats of the sides of the bed peeking sunshine onto the reddened fruits.

He smiled as he thought of bringing it back to the bakery and preparing them for pies, though it wasn’t his dream occupation, he did not find disdain in working the family bakery that had been passed down from his great great grandfather.

Unfortunately he was the only one of this generation to pass the bakery onto, and his uncles insisted that he take over, that they were busy with the farm, and once he settled down with a “nice girl” and had children of his own, then he could pass the bakery onto someone else.

God forbid he try to sell it to someone outside of the family, that would bring so much shame and disgrace upon him that he would never be able to recover.

So he prepared for a life of baking, since he definitely wasn’t going to be finding a “nice girl” to settle down with, let alone have children with.

As he rearranged and strapped in the bushel bin his gaze wandered to the guests of the orchard who were walking hand in hand through the lane, some swinging a child between them by the hands, some stealing a kiss from their lovers.

Aziraphale had kept that little facet of his being to himself through the years, once he realized he preferred the company of men over women, he did his best to not let that come through to his family. They knew of course, but they tried to ignore it, often introducing him to local women that frequented the orchard or store.

His uncle Randolph seemed personally attacked by Aziraphale’s taste in significant others. The one time he had brought someone to the weekly family dinner his uncle had brought up Sodom and Gomorrah casually and started throwing handfuls of salt at him and his guest to 'drive the evil out of him'.

Shamefully Aziraphale had apologized to his guest as he took him home for the night, but sadly, they hadn’t talked since.  
He hadn’t talked to many men romantically since then, because of his family, and, because he didn’t think he would be found attractive by anyone else that he wanted to be with romantically. Aziraphale wasn’t blind, and he knew that there were certain people that romance, and love were seemingly reserved for, and it wasn’t someone who looked like him.

Shaking his head slightly to rid his mind of these thoughts, Aziraphale pulled his attention back to loading the truck. 

He went back inside the store where Uriel had already rung up his bi-weekly order of fruit for the shop and handed him a receipt for it with the discount form, since he was part of the family he did receive the family discount that the rest of them did, though begrudgingly.

“Go pick out the rest, I’ve charged it already,” she said in a bored voice handing him the receipt and looking at the computer screen in front of her.

Aziraphale paused a moment, he always tried to interact with his family, though they seemed to rather wish he wasn’t there period.

“Aunt Uriel, how is the honey collection this year?” He asked after grasping at a topic to bring up, knowing that this was only their second season of bee keeping, he figured it would be a safe conversational point.

She arched a raven eyebrow at him and looked at the shelf of honey products next to her, four shelves with honey jars, honey flavored sticks, and honey home beautification creams.

“I think all the bees have died for the season, leaving us with nothing but a wasted profit.” She deadpanned, turning back to the computer screen, the glow from it illuminating her dark skin and the light-colored freckles splattered across her face.

“Ah, well, I’ll get back to my gathering.” Aziraphale said with a blush creeping up his neck.

Aziraphale ambled over to the display of different types of berries and grabbed his usual bundle of cherries and strawberries. He perused the blueberries, mentally calculating if he had all the proper supplies at the shop to make a special batch of muffins one day.  
He smiled picking up a small plastic case of them and added them to his basket.

He tsked at the selection of pears and figs, not quite impressive enough to garner a special new recipe.  
He perused the lemons and picked half a dozen from the display and added them, he could make some lemon meringue pie, or lemon zest cookies this week.

He made a note that they now had watermelon in stock as well as a few coconuts, from where they gathered those he was unsure, but he would look through his cookbooks for hopefully some new recipes to include them.

He looked through the vegetables now and grabbed some to cook his own meals with, and checked out with Uriel.  
As he carried the bags of his produce to his truck he heard the swinging door to the back offices swing open with a creak.

"Aziraphale! You weren't going to stop in and say hello before running off?" His uncle called in a faux cheery tone.

Azirapahle cringed slightly, before turning with a smile plastered on his face to his Uncle Gabriel.

“I was going to unload the produce into the truck before popping by for a visit.” Aziraphale explained in a flustered tone.

“Well come on back once you unload.” Gabriel said with a grin as he walked back through the swinging door to his office.

Aziraphale mentally groaned as he walked to his truck to unload the produce gently into the bed of the truck. Tucking it gently by the apple bushel bin and making sure it was strapped in carefully.

As he walked back to his uncle’s office, he mentally prepared himself for the kind of visit his uncle was more likely to have. 

Probably mentioning a single lady who he knew and wanted to introduce Aziraphale to at dinner this Sunday, or talks of passing the bakery on to a child he has yet to have let alone not sure he even wants, or to just sardonically ask about his dreams of owning a bookshop.

Aziraphale took in a breath and plastered a smile on his face again and walked through the doors to Gabriel’s office. He stood for a moment in the doorway looking at the seat available for him to sit in. 

As always his uncle insisted on chairs with arms attached. Making any visit with him in his office eventually turning to his comfort in the chair. And if he admitted he was uncomfortable, that the chair arms were digging into his soft wide thighs, his uncle, instead of offering to get new chairs, would chastise Aziraphale for “eating more product than he was producing.”

“Come sit awhile.” His uncle said smiling broadly, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

Aziraphale smiled and sat across from his uncle, being careful to lower himself into the chair, apprehensive about the support it would give his considerably larger frame.

“Aziraphale, as you know the baking competition is going to be here soon, and I wanted to talk with you about what you plan on baking during the Cake and Bake competition this year.” Gabriel said, catching Aziraphale by a bit of a surprise.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that we would be doing that this year.” Aziraphale stuttered slightly.

“Why wouldn’t we? It’s part of the Great Plan, that we always triumph, every year at that competition. Especially when Lucy’s Café is involved.” Gabriel said with a tight smile, his eyes reading as if he wanted to box Aziraphale about the ears for being so stupid, like he did when he was a child.

“Ah yes, the Great Plan, I er, haven’t quite decided on my, means of attack this year. I want to thwart their baking for sure, but I am having trouble deciding what to bake.” Aziraphale said, pulling that explanation out of thin air.

“Well what baked goods do you make that sells the most? Those are usually popular, which means they must be good. I wouldn’t know of course, I try to keep from consuming, gross matter, carbs, sugars and the such.” Gabriel said giving his trim stomach a pat.

Aziraphale felt a blush fade gently onto his cheeks at the subtle barb that Gabriel poked.

“Well, erm, the German pfeffernuesse is a good sell on Thursdays, that is the foreign baked good day I have, a close second is the Vermicelles cupcakes, the Swiss baked good. Then there’s the croquembouche that I do for special events.” Aziraphale listed.

“How about something more traditional? Something that our ancestors would be proud of?” Gabriel said with a grimace, as if foreign desserts were a stain on his frosting free carrot cake cupcake of a dessert platter.

“Hmm, well I suppose the chocolate cake is as traditional as anything. Or the family recipe for cherry pies, even apple pies. I am not sure what would be the best approach.” Aziraphale surmised as he ticked off ideas on his fingers.

Gabriel waved a hand and said, “yes one of those more traditional baked goods will do. You are coming to Sunday dinner this week yes?” He asked with a glint of something in his eye.

“I do plan to yes. It all depends on how the rest of the week goes with the shop of course.” Aziraphale said being sure to give himself an out if needed.   
Like if his uncle had talked another young woman to join them with the promises of a single bachelor with his own business that was in search of a spouse. 

Those dinners always went the same way; Aziraphale trying to be polite, but not wanting to give the young lady the wrong idea, his family emphasizing that he was such a good-looking bloke in spite of his weight, heavily complimenting his blonde curls, or his blue eyes, them telling her of all of his success in business.

If the young lady was indeed still interested after that embarrassing ordeal, when Aziraphale walked her to her vehicle he would tell her the truth and apologize for the ruse. Most of them took the news that he was gay well, their lack of attraction towards him made them feel less bad for the relationship not blossoming from a passed bowl of green beans. They usually stayed acquaintances afterwards and the ladies would frequent his bakery.

“Well hopefully sales go well and the clean up goes quick, we have some guests joining us this week.” Gabriel said with a smile.

“Guests?” Aziraphale asked questioning the plural usage.

“Yes guests, now I insist if you need help with anything at the shop give us a ring and we will assist you! And I can’t wait to hear what you plan on making for the baking competition at dinner on Sunday!” Gabriel said in a polite but dismissive tone.

“Sounds tickety-boo uncle,” Aziraphale paused as he started to stand up from the chair, careful to wiggle just a certain way so it doesn’t stick to his hips as he rose from the chair.

His uncle gave him a smile over a look of thinly veiled disgust. “Have a good drive back nephew.” Gabriel said in a somewhat terse voice.

“Jolly good and have a good rest of the day!” Aziraphale said once he was clear of the chair and heading out of the office at a quicker than usual pace.

Aziraphale walked out to his truck briskly, made one last check that the produce was securely strapped in the bed of the truck as not to jostle, and he got into the cab and shut the door.

He sighed, having finally gotten relief he hadn’t felt since he was balanced on the ladder picking apples.   
He loved his family, but they were so, often tiring to his soul, it was different now that he was an adult and had gone to a few therapy sessions, and could realize how they treated him was, not the best.

After another moment of silence Aziraphale flipped on the radio and adjusted the dial to a classical station.  
He rolled down the window and put the truck in drive and started to head for the bakery.   
He rested his elbow up on the window seal and took in a deep breath of the nice countryside air.

As he drove he thought about the different options he had to choose from to make for the baking competition, and wondered if perhaps after this competition, if he won, he would finally be able to convince his uncle to take over the bakery from him so he could open up his own bookshop.

A small smile danced across his lips as images of his own shop filled his mind, the breeze from the wind outside making the fine blonde hairs of his arms wisp about.


	3. Ch. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the alternate universe intros are done now for some plot!
> 
> And they finally meet!

Anthony came in the next day to the café to open up shop and get a start on baking some bread before the heat made the oven room unbearable, those fans wouldn’t be in until next week.

He tied an apron around his thin waist and started to take out the dough he had setting from yesterday to throw in the oven today, as he started sprinkling in different seeds and herbs when he heard a low voice directly in his ear.

“Crowley.” The voice growled.

Anthony jumped up startled at the voice and spun around, his uncle was standing there, looking as if he had been at the café for hours.

“I thought I told you that you were supposed to be doing surveillance and recon.” His uncle said, so close that Crowley could feel the hot breath that he breathed out like fire with his words.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to start on that today since it's Friday.” Anthony said, trying to keep from stuttering or quaking. 

His uncle’s presence had really shaken him more than he wanted to let on.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to start on getting ahead on the opposition as soon as possible? Think Crowley.” His uncle said giving the side of Anthony’s head a shove. 

He was so close to Anthony that he could inhale the scent of the bad memories of adolescence. His uncle’s breath smelled like the black coffee that he always drank in the mornings, and the cigarettes he smoked on the way to work.

“Get started right now, that is your main task here from now on. If your bread actually starts to sell then you can start baking it again, for now since it is our lowest seller, thus making you the lowest valuable here, you’d do well to not make any more until necessary, and to do as I say.”

Anthony nodded silently trying not to let off any hint that his uncle had rattled him with his surprise pep talk.

With that his uncle turned sharply and went up the stairs, Anthony stayed tense until he heard the door to his uncle’s office door slam shut. Only then did he allow himself to quiver slightly.

After collecting himself a moment, he took the dough he had been working with and debated on leaving instructions on what to do with it for Hans of Laurent. With a sigh he wrapped it up in plastic wrap and wrapped it in a brown bag. He proceeded to perform the same ritual carefully with the other doughs he had made earlier in the week that were waiting for him to bake. Wrapped them gently in plastic wrap and placed them in the brown paper bag.

Anthony turned off the ovens and lights and carrying the brown bag with the different doughs he had wrapped up, and went out to his car, locking the back door to the café behind him.

He tried to keep his walk smooth and steady as he walked to his car carrying the brown bag close to him, he felt his uncle’s eyes on his back as he walked to his car. He tried to keep his posture straight, his chin up. Luckily his sunglasses hid the look in his eyes, if his uncle had seen that he would have preyed on it like a cat with a mouse.

Anthony reached his car and he kept his composure as he buckled up and turned the key in the Bentley. As he drove out of the parking lot, he gave a wave to his uncle through the office window and pulled out of the parking lot.

Once he was two blocks away, he pulled into an empty alley and parked the car.  
He took his sunglasses off and rested his head in his arms that were bent on the steering wheel and took in a shaky breath.

After a couple minutes of trying to calm his racing heart with different breathing exercises he grabbed his phone and swiped open his app that he used when his anxiety got bad. He had been doing so well on his own without the dammed thing, then his uncle had to pull out this little sneak attack and he was almost back to square one.

“Almost.” He mumbled to himself as he went through the appropriate categories to help him ease the familiar senses of tension and fear rippling through him. He focused as hard as he could with putting his mind on that, following the prompts that helped him the most.

After about fifteen minutes, which felt like fifteen hours, he was no longer on edge. Though he was now completely drained and exhausted.  
Anthony started up the car and headed to his flat.

Once he arrived he quickly put the dough in the fridge and then went to change out of his work uniform. He groaned to himself as almost all of his shirts had the logo for the cafe on them. He had to dig into his closet before finding a button up black shirt that he usually saved for nice outings, not snooping and spying on devious bakers.

He spruced himself up and quickly buttoned the shirt and changed into a pair of his black skinny jeans. He was not surprised to find rips at the knees.

He squirted himself with some cologne so he wouldn't smell like bread, grabbed bottle of water to drink, and then hurried back out to his car.

He climbed back into the car and typed in 'A Slice of Heaven' into his Google search then popped the directions up in Maps.

All he really knew about it was that it was a bakery on the east side run by his sworn enemy, for all he knew there were seventy bakeries on that side of town.

Following the maps directions Anthony played his daily mix from YouTube, big surprise it was a mashup of different Queen songs.  
As he drove he thought of different tactics to do his assigned "recon" with.

He scoffed to himself at his uncle's choice of words, acted like he was some mafia spy or something. Especially when it came to the family feud, all that was missing from the saga was murder.

Aziraphale flipped the sign on the bakery door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ and went back behind the counter and sat on the stool he kept by the register. Just because he worked for a living, didn’t mean he couldn’t sit and work.

As he sat, he made sure the pastry trays were straightened in the display case. The last couple days he had made the bagatelle of baked goods. 

In the display case there was a little mix of things; almond croissants, pain au chocolats, snickerdoodle sweet rolls, vanilla custard filled chocolate eclairs, lemon raspberry velvet tarts, soffioni abruzzesis, and zeppoles.   
He had a bin at the bottom of the case with different breads sticking out that he had baked throughout the week.  
Loaves of honey wheat bread, baguettes, rosemary focaccia round boules, sourdough white chocolate apricot, challah, and braided brioche.  
The second display case exhibited the fresh pie of the day which was the bourbon chocolate-pecan pie, as well as the remaining pies from earlier in the week, triple berry pie, ginger cherry pie, salted honey pie, and a chai spice apple pie.   
Some had slices missing out of them, some were still left whole in the baking tin too obscure of a flavor to be tried by adventurous patrons.

Though he really wanted to open a bookshop, he did enjoy baking and creating the dozens of different kinds of baked goods. He enjoyed coming up with new flavors that danced on the palate together to a delicate tango, he enjoyed weaving the threads of dough together to make a beautifully braided bread.  
But he didn’t love it, not like he should, not like he wanted to.

He wanted to love the place as much as his grandfather had, wanted to look forward to coming in every morning at the very early signs of dawn to fire up the ovens, chop the fruits, and whip the creams.

He wanted to be eager to sell things to customers who asked for new recipes, or wanted something completely off the daily and weekly menu. He wanted to start doing event cakes for weddings and birthdays again, but those were disasters when he started to run the place on his own.

After a few hours of only one customer, who sniffed at the fact that Aziraphale did not also sell coffee, he made a few phone calls on the old phone on the wall behind him. Once he was done talking to the proper people. He sat back on his stool behind the counter.

He pulled his reading glasses out of his front pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose, then grabbed the book that he had sitting under the register and flipped to the bookmarked page. He set the bookmark aside and brought the book closer to his face to see the faded print better.

Aziraphale smiled as he inhaled the scent of the weathered book, it’s old pages yellow and brown on the edges, the smell of the paper was intoxicating to him. The cedar mixed with a slight tangible scent of vanilla. The scent of baked bread lingered slightly due to its stay in the bakery under the register. The slight hint of dust from being kept away from customers, untouched sometimes for days at a time. He inhaled again deeply, how he wished he could open a bookshop and have this scent surround and envelop him entirely every day.

The bell over the front door dinged just as Aziraphale took another sniff of the book, his nose buried in the inner spine.


	4. Ch. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ineffable idiots already smitten.
> 
> And yes I like smelling my books, sue me.

“Ngk!” he heard from the entry way, making him realize, yes, he was sniffing the innards of a book deeply, no he hadn’t locked the door up, and yes, he was still visible to customers as he did so.

“Er,” he heard the voice said over the rushing of blood to his ears.

“Um, hello.” He said lowering the book, replacing the bookmark, and closing it, before looking up at the patron.  
When he looked up, he never wanted to look anywhere else again but at the man who just walked in.

The man behind the counter lowered his book slowly, revealing a round blushing face with big blue eyes gazing anywhere but at him.

Anthony wanted to laugh at the sight of him sniffing a book initially, but when he saw that face behind the book, he saw all the wonders and beauties of the world and all the kingdoms thereof in the man’s eyes.

“Um, hello.” He said in a nice light voice, fluffy like a dandelion taking a ride on a breeze.

“Ngk, um, hel-hello.” Anthony stuttered at the man, trying to get his mouth and mind to form more words than the “You’re beautiful,” that he wanted to say over and over and over.

“Welcome to A Slice of Heaven, is there anything that you had your eye on in particular?” He asked as he fumbled to take off his glasses and put them in his pocket.

Anthony licked his lips and tried not to look like a hungry serpent eyeing a nestful of eggs.

“I, er, I’ve heard good things about this p-place, and I wanted to check it out for myself.” Anthony said trippingly.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” The man said, his eyes brightening and his lips breaking into a glorious smile, which was even more beautiful than his blushing face.

“Was there anything you wanted in particular? I’m afraid I don’t do event cakes, but I do bake pies quite frequently, and of course the usual cookies, muffins, scones. I will do event cream puff, but they are so done out.” The man said hurriedly, as if he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Like if he paused in between words then Anthony would leave.

“Um, no, I, er just wanted to browse.” Anthony said rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Okay, well we do have a special-order book if there is something not on the menu that you would like to order, and it isn’t available where you can request it. All the pies on display are sell-by-the-slice, the freshest ones are from left to right.” He said practically bouncing with excitement gesturing to the display case.

You’d think he never got customers with how excited he was at Anthony walking in.

"Um, thank you." Anthony said again, master of words he was.  
He bent down to look through the display case at the various goods.

"Of course, I will be right here if you need anything." The blonde man said again with a smile.

"Like a book?" Anthony asked with a grin.

The blonde man blushed with a little giggle.  
"Books, especially older ones smell so intoxicating and you are simply missing out on this simple pleasure if you aren't partaking." He said with his chin pointed outwards.

"I can honestly say I've never spent much time sniffing at books. To be fair I don't hardly read them." Anthony said taking a closer step to the counter where the man sat. 

"Well that is a shame, i suppose you read those dreadful e-books." He said with a grimace and a wave of his hand. 

Anthony laughed standing up from his bent position.

"Actually I have a lot of trouble reading period. My eyes don't like to focus on things in front of me well so I have to hold things like an arms length away, and then the print is usually too tiny to read from that far. If I have to do any kind of extensive reading I use audio books."

He said tapping the side of his sunglasses.  
“Thus, my reason for wearing these inside. I’m not just some wannabe hipster prat.” He added with a laugh.

“Oh.” The blonde man said, his brow furrowed in concern.

Anthony gazed at the pastries again for a few moments.

“Odd question I suppose, but would you, like to see what “all the fuss is about” with inhaling the smell of an old book?” The blonde man asked with a shy smile.

“I, er, sure why not.” Anthony said taken by surprise at the question.

The man smiled and got off of his stool, grabbed his book, and then walked around the counter towards Anthony.

This was the first time Anthony could really see the man’s physique, besides his gorgeous face. As the man walked toward him, it was like he was walking in slow motion.  
Anthony inhaled a bit sharply as his eyes tried to drink in the appearance of the man.

He was shorter than he was, just by a few inches, the blonde curls reaching up to Anthony’s chin.

He was so, soft looking. Like he was created for the purpose of hugs, of wrapping someone close and letting them sink into softness and warmth, every inch of him was so round and soft looking. Though his arms, as well as looking soft, had a powerful look about them, muscles under the thickness, muscles that came from kneading dough and loading and unloading pans and sheets of baked goods repetitively. Not that Anthony would know, his arms were rather scrawny compared to the blonde man’s, maybe he did something besides bake, for all Anthony knew he was a sword fighter at night and that’s how he got those muscle wrapped thick arms.

The sleeves to the tartan button up he wore were rolled up, revealing the soft and powerful forearms, sprinkled with little blonde hairs catching the light like gold.  
The most round and prominent feature was his belly, largely plump and broad, it strained against the apron, tied around him, splattered with various stains that comes with the profession, stains of caramel, chocolate, and flour. It matched the rest of his physique perfectly.

Anthony tried not to stare at the man as he walked toward him, but every inch of him was beaming and radiating like, sunshine out of every pore. Gathering every cell of attention that Anthony could spend on anything. His blue eyes were a mix between the skies on a cloudless clear day, and the galaxies at night, they were utterly beautiful and enchanting, full of this, spark, a shining spark of, something unattainable, indescribable, by any words that Anthony knew.

As he came closer Anthony could feel his heartbeat speeding up, his pulse quickening in pace, his chest tightening. Was this a heart attack? Was this how one of those felt? Wasn’t he supposed to smell burnt toast too? Or was that a stroke? Anthony took a moment to try and calm the fuck down as the man took the final step to stop right in front of him.

So close that they were almost touching, they were close enough that Anthony could smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off his skin, mixed with the scent of amber and smoked oud making Anthony’s insides twist with desire.

“Here, let me tempt you.” The man said holding the open book up towards Anthony, close enough he could see the yellowing and browning edges of the pages.

Anthony raised an eyebrow and looked at the man through the lenses of his sunglasses.

“Of course, um you don’t have to, I er, it was just.” The man stuttered lowering the book, some of the spark gone from his eyes as if he were preparing to be scolded, his lower lip poofed out a bit into a small natural pout.

The red-haired man lowered his eyebrow and his brows turned up earnestly,

“I can honestly say that no one has ever tried to tempt me into book sniffing.” He said with a cocked smile.

“Well then let me be the first.” Aziraphale said smiling, no longer stuttering as he realized the man wasn’t making fun of him, or about to condemn him for saying something stupid.

The man stooped down a bit, since he was several inches taller than Aziraphale, and he put his pointed nose into the crease of the pages and inhaled gently.

“Doesn’t it smell lovely?” Aziraphale asked in a dreamy tone.

“It smells like dust.” The red-haired man said somewhat muffled with his face still In the book.

Aziraphale laughed, “take another smell, deep, close your eyes and let it wrap you up in the scent.” He said holding the book steady.

The man may have closed his eyes, Aziraphale couldn’t really tell with those dark sunglasses on, and inhaled again, slower.

“I think I smell, hints of, cedar? Maybe some vanilla too?” He said in a croaky voice.

“Yes! Isn’t it lovely?” Aziraphale asked as the red-haired man stood, a lopsided grin on his face.

“It is, rather nice. Though I do prefer the smell of the bakery to books.” He admitted rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

“Yes, the bakery does have some rather enchanting smells of its own.” Aziraphale said as he headed back towards his stool behind the counter.

“Enchanting, right.” The man said in a low voice.

“Well enough about the scent of books, thank you for indulging me on that front. There aren’t many people who humor me enough to smell them.” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

“Most of them just shake their heads and ignore me.” He added, no longer laughing.

“Well that’s a shame, and bloody rude, to ignore you like that, at least have the common decency to pretend you’re interested. Although that’s not what I did, I didn’t pretend anything.” The red-haired man said swiftly to catch his foot from going into his mouth.

Aziraphale waved his hand, “I gathered what you meant.” He said with a smile.

The red-haired man smiled back weakly, and then brought his attention back to the display case of baked goods.

“Is there anything catching your interest? Or that you may like to taste before purchasing?” Aziraphale asked crossing his arms and leaning on the countertop.

“Er, not quite yet, though it does all look really good. I’ll let you know though, if there is anything I’d like to, taste.” The red-haired man stuttered out with a blush on his face.

“Yes, do let me know, my name is Aziraphale if you need anything.” He said with a warm smile.

“My name is Anthony, it’s nice to meet you Aziraphale.” The red-haired man, Anthony, said gently.

“Such a lovely name.” Aziraphale said kindly, the man, Anthony, blushed a deep red, almost the same color as his locks.

“Nah, it’s common, Aziraphale though, you don’t hear that one every day.” He said giving Aziraphale a mischievous smile.

“Growing up I was told it was a biblical name, Aziraphale was a Principality, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden. Though through all my, research on the subject I never found actual proof of that. Except one of my special editions with a funny little quip in it about some flaming sword.” Aziraphale said with a wave of his hand and a laugh.

“One of your special editions?” Anthony asked interested in what Aziraphale was saying.

Which was exhilarating for Aziraphale, no one ever wanted to talk about his books, didn’t even feign interest in them. Not even the officer at the bank he tried to get a loan at to open the shop. He waved his hands excitedly and smiled even bigger than he had been before.

“I collect rare books, usually first editions, but also ones with misprints, especially ones that are special misprints, like Bibles, or Qurans.”

Anthony smiled at the excitement that the baker, Aziraphale, was showing over his books. He wanted to ask him more about them, because even though he didn’t read often, he liked how passionate Aziraphale seemed over his collection.

“What is your favorite book that you own?” He asked him ambling to the counter to be closer to Aziraphale, to hear him better.

“Oh dear, that is such a hard question to answer, there are so many books I own that I just adore.” Aziraphale said looking adorably puzzled, his brow furrowing as he concentrated to think of which book he enjoyed owning the most. His chin, beautifully doubled, resting on a plump fist, the knuckles dimpling.

“That is a hard one. It has to be a tie between my misprinted Oscar Wilde book; it has the cover and first hundred pages of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” but then it merges into “The Importance of Being Earnest” with no kind of Segue even though they are completely different stories. I always detested Oscar Wilde, but this gives me a bit of glee. That one, or the Bible misprint that has the angel Aziraphale in the verse of Genesis.” He said with a laugh.

“Those both sound like very rare finds!” Anthony said, genuinely interested in the conversation.

Aziraphale cast his gaze down and smiled to himself shyly.

Anthony again admired how beautiful Aziraphale’s face was, how there was a little dimple in his chin, and how he had a spray of sun-kissed freckles across his nose.

“Ah, about the pastries, could I try a zeppole, a tart, and a slice of the bourbon chocolate pecan pie?” Anthony asked sheepishly.

“Of course, I’ll give you a little of each in case you don’t like something. Then if you do like something, please don’t hesitate to ask for more.” Aziraphale said cheerfully.

As he gathered Anthony’s request, he placed a little bit on a plate for him, just a bite worth of each so in case he didn’t like it, it wouldn’t be such a waste.

“Here you go, do have a seat! And please let me know if you would like more samples or if you enjoy something.” Aziraphale said bringing the plate around the counter and to a wooden table by a picturesque window.

“How much do I owe you?” Anthony asked pulling out his wallet.

“No no no, samples are free dear boy, if you do want more then we will talk about a price.” Aziraphale said with a smile and a dismissive wave of his hand.

Anthony looked at him, his head cocked to the side, his expression hard to read past the dark sunglasses.

“Everything alright?” Aziraphale asked wringing his hands together.

“Yeah, of course, I just, dunno how you can make a profit when you give away samples.” Anthony said with a gentle smile.

“Ah, well, usually if someone likes the sample, they’ll buy oodles of the entire baked product, if they don’t it’s no bother, and there will just be more for others later on.” Aziraphale said with a smile as if he got asked about that a lot.

“Right, of course.” Anthony said with a chuckle as he sat down at the wooden table.

“Let me know if you want more of anything.” Aziraphale said with a smile as he walked back behind his counter.


	5. Ch. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a beautiful artwork for this chapter by the lovely penbwl on tumblr imbedded in the chapter!!  
> 

Anthony inspected the samples on the plate, the zeppoles were coated with a fine coating of powdered sugar, the pastry gave way with a gentle squeeze, the filling remained inside and didn’t squeeze out of the ends, which was always a good sign. When it squeezed out the ends it meant that the filling wasn’t evenly distributed inside the dough balls.  
He took a tentative bite out of them, the sugary airy sweetness of the dough and sugar was practically dissolving on his tongue, the vanilla custard mixing with each nibble.

As he took another bite of the zeppole, he realized the first bite was just a prelude to how delicious they were, and he tried to keep from moaning with how good they were.

He looked over at Aziraphale, who was now reading the book he had previously been sniffing.

He must have felt Anthony looking at him and he glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow and a half smile as if he knew already that yes, those zeppoles were the best that Anthony had ever eaten, and yes the taste of the zeppoles made Anthony feel more happiness in just that bite than he ever had with anything else he had ever eaten.

Aziraphale gave Anthony another smile and his gaze went back down to his book.

Anthony finished the zeppole and then he had to sit for a moment before the taste disappeared from his palate. He sat and inspected the other samples, trying to decide which one to try next between the tart, and the pie.

He grabbed up the tart and inspected it, the crust was a golden color, and it looked crumbly and crunchy, the lemon filling was a pretty shade of yellow that mimicked a flower, like a tulip, and the raspberries that decorated the top were a beautiful shade of pinkish red.

Anthony took a bite of the tart and was pleased to find that the crust was like a sweet buttery cookie, the lemon filling was tangy and creamy and the perfect mix of tart and sweet. The floral rose notes of the raspberries brought the sweetness of the filling out. The flavors mixed and complemented each other perfectly twisting and twining together in a dance.

Anthony glanced at Aziraphale again, who raised an eyebrow again, trying to hide a smirk while he kept reading.

Anthony looked back at his plate and finished the tart and then studied the piece of pie carefully. The sides showing the chocolate of the filling was smooth and dark, the pecans on top were in a perfect descending semicircle growing smaller the closer to the center it got.

Anthony speared the pointed end of the piece of pie and brought it to his mouth.  
He was surprised at the taste, bourbon, chocolate, and pecan of course.

“Is that a hint of honey? And, what, brown sugar?” Anthony asked Aziraphale as he tried to keep from gushing compliments of taste of the pie to the baker.

“You have a sensitive palate, excellent, you would probably be able to detect the secret ingredients I hide in some of my other baked goods.” Aziraphale said with a laugh placing his book down.

“Dunno if that is a good or bad talent to have.” Anthony said with a laugh as he took another bite of the pie.

“Oh, I would think it’s a very good trait to have, but then again I like trying to add hidden ingredients and letting people stumble onto them. Do you do that kind of thing at your work? Or as a hobby? You seem extremely good at it.” Aziraphale asked putting his elbow on the countertop and resting his chin in his hand.

“I, er, don’t have to taste test anything, not like a poison checker for celebrities and kings and queens and the like.” Anthony said, trying to divert the question to one where he wasn’t saying an outright lie.

“Oh yes, I wonder if they have special contracts for people with that kind of work in case something they do test is poisoned.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle.

The little bell over the door dinged and a couple of women came into the shop.

“Ah hello! Just a moment ladies.” Aziraphale said standing up straight and clapping his hands together.

“Dear boy, was there anything else you wanted to try? Or something that you would like more of?” Aziraphale asked turning to Anthony.

Anthony gulped, “I, I really liked everything that I tried, I wouldn’t hate trying everything you've got, it was all so good, so I’m sure that the rest is just as good, if not better. It’s hard to say what I would like more of,” Anthony placed a finger to his lip a moment thinking.

“I think I would like a couple more of the zeppoles, they I think were my favorite of everything.” Anthony said after a few moments of indecision.

“Ah, wonderful.” Aziraphale said beaming.

He reached under the counter and grabbed a pink paper bag and reached into the display case and emptied the tray of zeppoles into the bag.

“I er I don’t need that many!” Anthony squawked when he noticed the bag Aziraphale was bringing over was bursting with zeppoles, barely able to roll the top closed.

“No one needs that many, but I do insist you take them, enjoy some now, some later, some tomorrow. Share with your wife or husband and children.” Aziraphale said with a slight up tilt to his voice.

“It’s just me, so I guess I’ll be eating zeppoles for the next week.” Anthony said, slightly blushing.  
Aziraphale chuckled and handed the bag to Anthony, then went back to behind the counter.

“Alright dear ladies, how are the children this week?” Aziraphale asked as he began pulling each tray of baked goods out from the inside of the display case.

Anthony watched with curiosity as the baker kept chatting with the women, and once all the trays were now on top of the counter, he grabbed a couple of boxes and began putting each baked item into them carefully one by one.

“There you go, give my best to the children, you ladies have a good week, I’ll see you next Friday.” Aziraphale said as he opened the door for the women, who were both carrying armloads of boxes and bags full of pastries and breads.

Once they were out of the shop Aziraphale turned to Anthony to see that he had a look of curiosity painted on his face.

“What?” Aziraphale asked with a laugh.

“What was all that? If I can ask that is, I know it’s not really any of my business.” Anthony said sheepishly, catching himself.

“Oh, I ah, I gave it away.” Aziraphale said as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“You wot?” Anthony asked, his eyes going wide behind his sunglasses.

His thoughts went to what they did at Lucy’s when there were stale or old stock of baked goods, they mainly just tossed it in the trash. The one-time Anthony had attempted to give it to some homeless folks Bee and Danielle immediately told his uncle and the profit that would’ve been made off of those goods that had been given away were taken out of Anthony’s paycheck. Almost making it to where he didn’t make rent that month. He had to eat microwave noodles for weeks.

“I gave it away.” Aziraphale blurted out, as if he had been suppressing the words and trying to take the initial admission back.

Anthony’s eyebrows raised up in surprise, his mouth pulled into a little grin.

“Well after today they won’t be good or fresh anymore, and they work at The Raphael House of The Lord, with the children, so on Fridays they come and pick up the baked goods for the week for the children to eat.”  
Aziraphale said trying to explain quickly.

“Wow, that is…” Anthony started to say.

“Stupid, and not profit making, I know.” Aziraphale said looking away from Anthony who would most likely be sneering at him the way Gabriel does when he hands in the monthly expense reports and sees that he has a donation marked for the month.

Aziraphale did not want to see the look on this nice strangers face turn into one of disgust, even though he barely knew him, he felt, a stirring in his chest.

“I don’t think that’s stupid at all.” Anthony murmured to Aziraphale gently.

“You, you don’t?” Aziraphale asked in surprise as he turned to look at Anthony’s face.

The man’s sunglasses were still perched on his nose, hiding his eyes, but the angles of his eyebrows and turn of his lips were that of kindness, sincerity.

“No, I think that it is quite a, a, generous gesture that shows that you are kind, especially to those in need.” Anthony said with a nervous smile on his face, and even though Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes, he felt the look that was coming from behind the sunglasses, warmth and something else that Aziraphale couldn’t name.

“Ah, well, ah, thank you.” Aziraphale stuttered, his blush deepening on his face.

Anthony smiled and rose from the chair he was sitting in.

“Ah, well, I assume you’ll be locking up for the day, since you don’t have any more pastries and breads to sell, I shouldn’t keep you from being able to go home.” Anthony said as he reached for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you for the now month worth of zeppoles that I have?” he asked with a chuckle.

“You, you don’t have to pay, they were going to be in the batch for the Raphael House if you hadn’t come in.” Aziraphale denied holding his hands up flatly.

“I insist, I pay you, or I do something for you to return your kindness.” Anthony said with a crumpled bill in his hand, lost on where to put it.

“Well, if you’d like, I um, since you have such a refined, and sensitive palate, would you, would you like to try some new recipes I’ve been wanting to try and make? Let me know if they taste good or not? I of course can try them myself, but more opinions on the matter is always good to have. Of course, if that would be keeping you from your job or schooling it isn’t something that you have to do. It was merely a suggestion that I had on the top of my head.” Aziraphale said trippingly.

He was somewhat surprise that he made the suggestion out loud. He had only been thinking it barely earlier. But he wanted, more time with this man.

“I don’t go to school.” Anthony said with a laugh and a wave of his hand as he walked closer towards Aziraphale and the exit.

“And I, am on a leave from work at the moment, with not much to do. Except wander about SoHo with my hands in my pockets.” Anthony mused uncomfortably halting his long stride toward the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you laid off with the big spread of closures recently?” Aziraphale asked with concern, turning towards Anthony a bit.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just some, er, just a break.” Anthony stuttered out in a closed off tone.

“Forgive me for prying.” Aziraphale said embarrassed of himself for being so nosy, turning completely away from Anthony now, hiding his blush and twiddling hands clasped in front of him.

“It’s no trouble really, no worries. When, er, when do you want me to start taste testing your new baked goods?” Anthony asked rubbing the back of his neck Aziraphale heard a footstep fall on the hardwood floor.

Aziraphale turned around, and found Anthony immediately in front of him, so close that he bumped him slightly with his large belly when he turned.

Aziraphale stepped back instantly, covering his belly with a protective hand, waiting for Anthony to say something cruel, as others have.

“Terribly sorry.” He mumbled looking at the floor.

“No worries at all.” Anthony said in a husky gravelly voice.

“Um, well, you can come over to taste test things, whenever you’d like. You don’t have to really if you don’t want to, there is no need really. But If you’d like, whenever you’d like, you are welcome to come.” Aziraphale murmured gently, the blush still flaming on his face, his gaze still set on the floor.

“When are you open again?” Anthony asked in the same husky gravelly tone.

Aziraphale looked up eagerly and nearly bumped into Anthony again he was so close to him, just barely a hairsbreadth separated them.

Aziraphale looked up at Anthony’s face, his sunglasses hiding the fine details of his eyes, but Aziraphale could see the fine delicate lines on the sides of each eye, enhancing the shape of them.  
His nose was arrogant and pointed sharply, a shelf for the sunglasses, a noble nose that cast a small shadow on one cheek.  
He could see the shadow of dimples in his cheeks, that seemed to only appear when he smiled, he could see the bite marks on his lower lip from nervous biting.

A strand of hair was falling into his face, Aziraphale wanted to reach up and smooth it down for Anthony, but he felt that would be too much of a step.

“I am open Monday, probably around six in the morning.” Aziraphale finally was able to say.

“Excellent, well I will see you then.” Anthony said with a smile.

Aziraphale smiled up at Anthony, a flutter in his chest.

“Goodbye Aziraphale.” Anthony said, then reached for the door, opened it and looked over his shoulder back at Aziraphale.

“Mind how you go.” Aziraphale said with a breathless smile.

Anthony gave another smile as he walked out the door, the bell dinging as he walked through the doorway and out of the shop.

Aziraphale stood there smiling at the doorway after Anthony left for an uncounted amount of time, before realizing that it was getting late into the early evening, and that he needed to finish wrapping up the shop before going upstairs to his flat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Crowley plant time along with some pining and inner monologue.

Anthony woke up in his flat and stared at the ceiling when his alarm went off. Though he didn’t have to go into work at Lucy’s today, he did have to go to A Slice of Heaven and be a taste tester. Not that he was complaining by any means, he liked sweet things as much as the next person, maybe even more so. Not that his frame would tell, but he did enjoy sweets often.

It wasn’t the fact that he’d be a taste tester that was making him lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and slipping slowly into an anxious guilt-ridden mess. 

It was the fact that he was going to be a taste tester, the fact that he was going to be at A Slice of Heaven, the fact that he would be there, his purpose there was to sabotage.

Those things did bother him, but the main thing that was making him anxious and guilt-ridden was the owner, the baker there at A Slice of Heaven, Aziraphale.

Anthony had dreamed about him the last couple of nights, about the golden curls on his head, about the splattering of light freckles across his nose, about how soft he felt in that miniscule moment of a touch.

He was in all his dreams, and all his waking thoughts upon leaving the bakery Friday.

How his lips curled into a smirk when he bloody well knew that Anthony was impressed by the taste of his pastries, how his cheeks blushed such a delicate shade of pink that it made him want to find a bouquet of flowers in exactly the same shade to give him, just to see that blush again. How his big blue eyes sparkled when Anthony praised him for being kind.

Anthony felt such a mix of feelings that it threatened to make him sick.  
Whenever he thought about the task his uncle set him up to do, he felt immense pressure, obligation, and fear, because if he didn’t do what his uncle wanted, he would fire him from Lucy’s and talk to his landlord to get him evicted.   
He had almost done it once back when he found out Anthony had dropped out of university.  
His uncle had called his landlord that same evening saying he was no longer a student and no longer qualified for the student discount. The landlord had called Anthony infuriated thinking that Anthony had tried to continue getting the discount even though he wasn’t in school anymore, he was threatening eviction before Anthony got on full time at Lucy’s.

If he could find a full time job somewhere else he wouldn’t have to worry about money and losing his flat, but Lucy’s was the family business, and it was where his mother used to work when she was growing up, before she got sick, working there, he felt like he still had a piece of her with him.

Anthony groaned and rolled out of the bed before his mind could take him into the cycles of thought again that he had been on, Lucy’s, uncle, Aziraphale, guilt, fear, infatuation, guilt, fear, infatuation.

Anthony pulled on a plain black long sleeved shirt and black jeans,over the weekend he had gone and bought a couple packs of shirts, and some aprons so he wouldn’t have anything with Lucy’s emblem on them when he went to A Slice of Heaven.

He dragged a comb through his shoulder length hair and put some curl defining spray in it before deeming it tame and then put some of his prescription eye drops in his eyes and popped his sunglasses onto his face.

He went down the hall of his flat and checked on his plants, another thing that his mother left behind was her houseplants that she had planted right before she had to go to the hospital. 

He lovingly took care of them and they had lived quite a long time, through moving, through changing pots, through everything.   
They were no longer little sprouts in their pots but enormous green towering things, well some of them.

The palms were quite large, and their fronds were wide and would sometimes smack Anthony in the head if he walked past too fast, his Zanzibar gems were just as green and just as testy.  
The one plants that Anthony had that was his favorites was the Strelitzia, it had been the ones his mum was so excited to see bloom its flowers bloom, but they still hadn’t, even with all the fussy care Anthony gave them, the flowers still hadn’t bothered to bloom. In his research on the plants he noted that sometimes their flowers didn’t bloom for twenty years, so he had learned to be patient with them.

He grabbed his plant mister and gave them all a fine spray of water, checked their pots and made sure the soil was still good, and then made sure they were getting enough sunlight.

“C’mere Gwendolyn, you need more sun today.” He grunted as he tugged a pot over towards where the sun would shine in through the window.

“Jasper you’ve had enough sun for the day, your leaves will rot off if I leave you there so don’t even argue.” He said pointing a finger at one of the zanzibars before dragging it.

“Priscilla you are fine where you are, so don’t be pouting that I didn’t move you, you didn’t need it, though you could use some more water.” He said giving her another spray of water on her fronds.

“Asher, you need some new soil, this is all gone to shit.” He said glancing at one of the palms, “I’ll get some out of the shed for you tonight.”

He crouched down and looked closely at the strelitzia that he had, “Good morning Alaine, Is today going to be the day? Are you ready to bloom?” Anthony asked gently.

The plant just sat there, not that Anthony expected different, though sometimes he swore that the plants would shake sometimes.

“Today would be a good day to try, if you were ready.” He murmured to her, running a finger along her leaves.

Still no answer from the plant. Anthony sighed, and stood up. He surveyed the rest of the plants and then grabbed a bottle of water a couple zeppoles and headed down to the Bentley, then headed to A Slice of Heaven.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has some pining going on with some inner monologue.

Aziraphale woke up at three thirty in the morning, not unusual, he was usually up close to this time to begin baking the fresh breads for the new day, the new week, to preheat anything he needed, and to slice any fruits.

This morning began like many of the others, except he couldn’t keep the thoughts of scarlet hair and dark sunglasses out of his head. 

He hummed to himself as he kneaded the dough, as he sliced the apples, and as he put pans and tins into the ovens.

He stood over the wooden kitchen island, flour all over his apron, and on his hands, he stopped after several baking projects and a couple dozen muffins to take a break to sip some of his morning cocoa before it went completely tepid.

He glanced at the clock on the wall for the first time since he arrived that day and smiled, it was half past five, and Anthony would be arriving soon. That is if he still wanted to be a taste tester. If was the key word there. Aziraphale sighed, not knowing for sure what was awaiting the chime of six. 

Would he still want to come? Or was he sick of Aziraphale already? Was Aziraphale too forward? 

Perhaps Anthony could sense the longing behind the invitation that he extended.   
The longing of being closer to him, for longer than that small fragment of time.   
The longing for more conversation than those mere few sentences.

The pleasant conversations they had had played over and over in Aziraphale’s mind throughout the weekend.  
But those weren’t the only things that had replayed again and again in Aziraphale’s mind, he felt a bit foolish, hopelessly mooning over a man he had only talked to once, had only had the briefest of accidental physical contact with once. Was he so starved for positive attention, for physical touch that he would be daydreaming about bumping into Anthony again and again, replaying that moment, taking every inch of him in from his flowing red hair to his long spindly fingers again and again?

Apparently, the answer to that question was yes.

But there were good reasons to daydream about him, he had been kind, polite, he was funny, and his smile, good lord that smile made Aziraphale feel gentle goosebumps rise on his arms just from remembering it. From remembering the way his fiery curls fell around him framing his face softly, gently, tenderly, like a burning halo.

The way his smile showed off a pair of deep dimples in his cheeks, twin little delicate indented curves of hidden glee. They hadn’t been showing until he had smiled and laughed, and his laugh, Aziraphale paused for a moment because if he started thinking about his laugh he may have to sit down and take a small rest before continuing to prep for the morning.

He sighed happily, trying to keep any anxieties at bay.

No need to get excited over the possibility of him arriving today in case he in fact didn’t show up. But he couldn’t help but keep glancing at the clock to see how much longer to opening time it was, the time marking when Anthony might arrive, that he said would be a good time for him to arrive.

He shook his head to get the sweet musings out of his head and went to the front room where the bakery display was and began to sweep the wooden floors, though they had already been swept the night before to prepare for opening today, there was no harm in making sure that all the dust and dirt had gotten deposited elsewhere.

As Aziraphale swept the muscle memory brought back other occurrences of him sweeping in the bakery, brief flashes of a younger self with his grandfather, a man who looked so similar to Santa Claus that he wouldn’t have needed a costume for the role, only differences being were the thick white sideburns that pointed outwards, and the nose that had been broken a couple times in life.

Aziraphale paused sweeping to look at the framed picture that was near the cash register of him and his grandfather, he must have been five or six and his grandfather was teaching him to make apple pies. They were both smiling and covered in flour, surrounded by apples. He was a chubby child, and his grandfather was a portly man, Aziraphale had had a particularly bad day at school that day with other children being mean to him about his extra little bit of extra weight.

“Like the apples in our orchards, people are all different, and that doesn’t make them bad for not being exactly like the others. We treasure each apple we grow, don’t we? Whether they are small and reedy, or big and round, there’s always something that can be made of them. People are the same way Aziraphale, just because you aren’t exactly like the others doesn’t mean you are any less treasured than anyone else. Don’t ever forget that.” His grandfather had said, all seriousness in his tone, holding up different apples for Aziraphale to look at as examples as he spoke.

Aziraphale had always tried to hold that lesson close, keep those words in his mind, especially when he was feeling low, or less than, especially regarding his size.

When he had moved in with his aunt and uncle there had been a big shift in demeanors, where his grandfather was kind and loving, never afraid to show affection and give praise, his aunt and uncle were very removed from those feelings, especially towards their nephew, they had been more to critique and shame. They never wanted children of their own, but Aziraphale’s grandfather had made it abundantly clear that when he passed, he would live with them, to spare him from foster care. His grandfather had passed right after Aziraphale had turned thirteen, and he had been put in charge of the bakery just after he turned seventeen.  
His aunt and uncle didn’t like overseeing that either, they just wanted to keep it around for appearances sake. It would have been a shame if after the death of the beloved member of the town, beloved patriarch of the Eden family, the business he worked his whole life at dissipated as well. Once he hit that age, he was basically handed the keys and shown the door. It didn’t matter either way to Aziraphale, the bakery felt more like a home than his aunt and uncles had.

Aziraphale had caught his reflection in the glass of the picture frame and gave a sad smile, then looked down at himself, lightly grazing a hand over his large belly and trailing it over the downward slope.  
His mind flashed back to bumping into Anthony, and his plump hand paused on his belly where they had touched. He had expected Anthony to be disgusted, to sneer at the touch, to make a rude comment over his girth.   
But, he hadn’t. Though, just because he wasn’t cruel or visibly disgusted didn’t mean anything in particular, except that he knew to keep a civil tongue in public.  
Aziraphale scrunched his face up and went back to sweeping the floor, and he took the chairs down and arranged the small sitting area nicely, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep thoughts of Anthony at bay.

“It was one bloody meet-up, doesn’t mean anything. If he does come today it just means I won’t be speaking to myself all day. If he doesn’t then he doesn’t.” Aziraphale said to himself firmly with a nod.

Gathering the broom amd putting it back in the janitorial closet Aziraphale went back to the kitchen and began mixing up ingredients for a batch of muffins. Those were usually good sellers in the mornings, along with croissants, and cinnamon rolls. 

Then Aziraphale heard a knock at the back door, and he smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some more close up falling over themselves pining!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about baking and scoring came from google searches while I was at work so if I don't describe something correctly that's why!

Aziraphale headed to the back door, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards, he ran his fingers through his hair to make sure it wasn’t looking unkempt, and he opened the heavy wooden back door with ease.

Anthony stood there holding two to-go cups from a local tea shop, with a sheepish smile on his face.

“I hope it’s okay I came back this way. I figured you’d be back here baking instead of up front, made a good guess there.” Anthony said sleepily.

He walked into the shop and Aziraphale closed the door behind him, latching it securely. Anthony held a hand holding a cup out to Aziraphale.

“I guessed your flavor, sorry, but I didn’t have your number to call and ask. I got myself a lemon lavender if you don’t like that one.” He said with a pointed look to the to-go cup.

Aziraphale gingerly took the cup, his fingers brushing against Anthony's. An electric hum vibrated at his fingertips, and he smiled.

"Why, that's very kind of you, thank you. You didn't have to go to the trouble." Aziraphale gushed as he realized his cheeks were heating.

Anthony gave a tired smile, "no trouble, but really if you would rather have this one let me know."

Aziraphale took a tentative sip of the warm drink. The flavors he tasted were very familiar and mixed together they were an unexpected delight.

"Is that, I think, I think I'm getting hints of vanilla, blueberry, and merlot?" Aziraphale questioned with an eyebrow raise.

Anthony gave a little bob of his head then said quickly, "if I guessed wrong we can trade no trouble."

"This is quite scrumptious, thank you. I was just about to make some myself, my cocoa was just beginning to congeal." Aziraphale said with a chuckle taking another sip.

Anthony smiled and held his cup up as if to toast Aziraphale, then took another sip of his own tea.

“This is so good! What establishment did you purchase it from? Perhaps I’ll make a stop there sometime soon. Was it that newly remodeled hip café, Lucy’s?” Aziraphale asked thinking of places he was familiar with.

Anthony started choking on his tea and turned and spat half of it out in surprise.

“Dear boy are you quite alright?” Aziraphale asked giving Anthony gentle pats on the back, surprised by the scene.

Too surprised to realize that he was touching Anthony, that he was patting him, which turned into gentle rubs circling his back.  
Anthony held up a finger as he coughed a couple times to clear his airway, he took a couple deep breaths and then gave a half smile to Aziraphale.

“’M alright, just went down the wrong pipe is all.” He admitted with an embarrassed smile.

Aziraphale smiled back at him, and then realized that his hand was now just resting on Anthony’s back, he realized this as Anthony’s posture relaxed and he seemed to lean into his hand gently.

Realizing that his hand was still in place upon Anthony's back, Aziraphale blushed and took his hand away.

“So, er, what establishment did you get the tea from?” Aziraphale asked tugging at his apron.

“Oh, I uh got it from 39 Steps on D’Arblay Street.”  
Anthony mumbled looking down at the to go cup and running a thumbnail along the cup sleeve.

“Daresay I’ve not had the chance to visit that establishment either, though I do hear good things about both. Though with Lucy’s there is, ah, long history with my family.” Aziraphale stated as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and took another sip of tea.

“Oh?” Anthony asked.

“Ancient history, nothing major dear boy, best not to speculate.” Aziraphale said with a little smile.

“Dear boy?” Anthony asked with a laugh.

“What is so funny about that?” Aziraphale asked as he led Anthony out of the doorway and into the kitchen by the ovens and island.

“You can’t be older than me, if you are its barely by a year or two.” Anthony smirked.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, “I’ll just have to call you something else then.” He pondered, thinking of different things he could call Anthony.

Dearest, beloved, beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, Romeo, so many things he could put in place of ‘boy’.

Anthony cocked an eyebrow at Aziraphale as if to challenge him to think of a new moniker other than ‘dear boy’.

“I’ll just have to settle on ‘Dear’ if that’s not a problem.” Aziraphale said with a huff of frustration.

Anthony laughed, “But you call everyone dear, don’t you? You seem the type, you’d think that your taste tester would have a, I dunno a special nickname.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Anthony, and a timer rang in the kitchen.

“Oh, the muffins are done, good.” Aziraphale said with a smile as he hurried to grab an oven mitt and pull the ovens carefully out of the oven.

“Those smell amazing, what are they blueberry?” Anthony asked walking over to follow Aziraphale to the little island where he rested the muffin pan to cool.

“They are blackberry ginger muffins, a new experiment, they have more spices in them than berries, but they do smell delicious, don’t they?” Aziraphale asked tenderly.

“Have you made anything else today? Or just these?” Anthony asked glancing from the muffins to Aziraphale as he took a sip of his tea.

“Oh, I prepared the apples and preheated pie crusts, I prepared dough for bread to make tomorrow, and I made a tray of cinnamon strudel scones, and a few loaves of sourdough bread I still need to score, I do have a couple different things I’d like to make today, experimentally.” Aziraphale rattled off as he carefully took the muffins out of the tins and placed them on the cooling rack.

“You’ve certainly been a busy bee.” Anthony said with a smile.

“Well, I don’t sleep very much, or very well when I do, so instead I’ll prepare for the week ahead and I’ll bake. I do like getting things done early so I have time to read.” Aziraphale explained.

“And sniff books as well?” Anthony asked with a smirk.

Aziraphale made a face at Anthony and finished taking the muffins out of the tins.

“Where’s the dough? I could try and help you score if you’d like.” Anthony offered, looking around the kitchen for the loaves of dough, his back turned to Aziraphale as he looked on the counter.

“Oh, you know how to score?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony froze, his back stiffened.

Shit Shit Fucking Shit! He cursed at himself, he had to think of something quick to say that wasn’t ‘I work for your mortal enemy and of course I know how to score’.

“My mother taught me at a young age.” He muttered through clenched teeth.

“Oh, that’s so lovely, my grandfather taught me about baking, it was a nice bonding experience with him. Especially when it was one on one time with him.” Aziraphale said fondly, not even catching the stiffness of Anthony’s posture.

Anthony grunted in response, his back still to Aziraphale, and looked at the different blobs of dough waiting to be scored and baked as he tried to not hyperventilate into a fainting fit. He almost gave away his whole cover.

“What kind of scoring techniques do you know?” Aziraphale asked coming up beside Anthony to help set the dough out onto the counter so they could work on it.

Anthony turned to look at him, his expression calm with a slight turn of his mouth.

“I daresay the only ones I can do that look somewhat presentable are ears, double slashes, and a crosscut. I’ve tried to do more artistic things, but my fingers aren’t very keen on doing more than that. They are good at kneading the dough and mixing the batters, but when it comes to delicate work, well they aren’t very delicate now are they?” Aziraphale asked with a self-depreciating chuckle holding his pudgy hands up for Anthony to see.

Anthony raised an eyebrow surprised at that comment, everything about this man seemed soft, delicate, pure, and sweet. Anthony looked closely at Aziraphale’s hands that he held up.

“Your hands look delicate to me, look nice and soft, properly manicured, not ragged or calloused. Whoever told you that nonsense about them not being delicate wasn’t looking at the right pair of hands. ‘sides delicate work doesn’t need to come from delicate hands. It just needs to come from hands that are skilled at the craft they’re attempting. Considering you own and operate this bakery and it’s a successful one, you fit that bill.” Anthony said in such a quick succession of words that made it sound like he had tripped over a rubbish barrel and fell down a flight of stairs.

He noticed Aziraphale had fallen quiet and had a sweet smile on his face, his eyes looked a little watery from this angle too. He felt his face heat and he cleared his throat.

“Um, do you happen to have any taro powder?” Anthony asked gingerly.

As Azirpahale went to look in a cupboard for the powder Anthony reached up with his long hands and swooped his hair up into a bun, so it was out of his face and not at risk of getting any strands into the dough, and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up.

He looked around the kitchen for a moment, trying not to just zone in on Aziraphale and gaze at him. He grabbed a bread lame that was sitting on the counter and began making methodical cuts into the dough and worked silently.

Aziraphale watched him closely as his long arms and nimble fingers curved around the lame and cut and sliced into the dough Gently turning the pan that the dough was in around to get a certain cut right, gently cutting certain areas and deeply cutting others.

There were five different loaves of bread to score so Aziraphale grabbed a tin and started to methodically cut into it with the lame, letting his muscle memory of cutting do most of the work, he scored one dough with the ear pattern, cut and then grabbed a second pan of dough and made the crosscut.

He glanced at Anthony’s cuts and was mesmerized by the patterns in the dough, little stitching cuts, little round cuts, little slashes and long whips. He saw that the taro powder was applied in several places but not over the entire amount of dough.

“What kind of design is that?” Aziraphale whispered, making Anthony jump slightly, as if he had forgotten his presence.

“Ah, just some freehand stuff.” He muttered, turning his attention back to the dough.

He made a couple more cuts with the lame and then reached for a second pan of dough to make another intricate design.

This time Aziraphale watched him as his hands moved gracefully, long thin fingers kneading in certain spots, pinching certain spots, his brilliant hands making cuts into the bread using the lame with such gentility that Aziraphale was surprised the dough even sliced.

Anthony could feel Aziraphale staring as he worked with the lame and the dough, he didn’t want to show off necessarily, but his hands got away from him when they started to decorate the dough. It was like he was getting free rein to decorate cakes again. Though not the same at all, but the creative process of it was similar.

Aziraphale’s little gasps of delight when Anthony would make a certain cut into the dough or added a little taro powder were so endearing that Anthony couldn’t help but smile as he worked.

Anthony saw Aziraphale apprehensively grab the last pan of dough that needed scored and tentatively began cutting with the lame. He saw him biting his plump bottom lip tenderly as he made a couple of slices into the dough.

“Oh bugger.” He muttered as he quickly dropped the lame and started trying to reshape the dough and pinch it back together where he had made a cut.

“Oi!” Anthony yelped putting his own lame aside and circling Aziraphale.

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry for cursing, I shouldn’t have, especially not in your company, I’m just so easily frustrated with my lack of fine motor skills.” Aziraphale said blushing, looking up at Anthony with big blue eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck if you curse.” Anthony laughed, “What I do care about is you trying to undo what you cut into the dough. What’d you do that for? It was looking just fine.” He added coming up on Aziraphale’s other side.

He folded his arms and rested his head on them on the kitchen counter, “You should start using the lame again, but this time, don’t try to pinch the dough back together. You can cause weird air bubbles that way and make the flavors unevenly distribute.” Anthony said gently.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, “did your mother teach you that too?” He asked curiously.

Anthony blushed a deep crimson, inwardly cursing himself again.

“She loved to bake, my mum, she’d always instill grains of wisdom whenever I was around to help her. She liked gardening too.” Anthony said, which wasn’t a lie at all.

His mother had taught him things about baking when she was alive, and she did love to garden. But the simple omission of the fact that he also learned skills from Lucy’s was gnawing at him.

“Ah, a woman of many hobbies.” Aziraphale said with a smile.

Anthony tried to smile back but it came out more of a grimace than he meant to.

“Now, this time, cut and slice any way you like, however your heart desires.” Anthony said nodding at the now score-less dough that Aziraphale had in front of him.

“But what if I screw up?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly, holding the lame lamely and looking apprehensively at the dough, trying not to be intimidated by it.

“It’ll still be edible, and that’s the point of bread, you do this one, and then if you’d like I’ll help you with scoring the last one.” Anthony said with a smile tilted at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale nervously smiled back, and then turned his attention from the handsome red head, to the dough.

Anthony watched as Aziraphale carefully studied the dough in front of him, precariously and methodically making small cuts with the lame, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth slightly, his brows knit together in concentration, his big beautiful blue eyes narrowed. Anthony felt his own mouth turn into a smile as a warmth spread across his cheeks and his pulse began to quicken. He wondered if the closeness to the ovens was making it hotter in the kitchen than it was a few minutes ago, or if it was his attentiveness to the angelic baker.

“Oh, darn it.” Aziraphale huffed as he made an accidental score.

“No, no, leave it, use it, work with it. Don’t dismiss it just because it’s not what you intended or what is “supposed” to be there. Accidents are just miracles waiting to be discovered.” Anthony said gently, halting Aziraphale from pinching the dough back together.

“But it’s not going to look right, it won’t be, it won’t be pretty.” Aziraphale said with a tone of guilt to his voice. As if he had doomed the bread that was to come out of this dough to be a neglected mold covered lump for the rest of its existence.

“Just because something doesn’t look right or doesn’t look the way that certain people say it should, doesn’t mean it isn’t pretty.” Anthony murmured his eyes flashing to Aziraphale’s face.

Their eyes met, Aziraphale’s cheeks darkened with a blush, his eyes stealing away from Anthony’s and back to the bread, a small smile playing across his lips as he held the lame delicately in his chubby hand.

Aziraphale attempted to score the dough more, he was aiming for a design that would bring attention to his breads, but all he felt he was making was ugly slashes throughout the lump of raw bread.

He set the lame down and stepped back from the counter, “I should just stick to the designs that I know, otherwise I won’t ever sell more bread.” He said frustrated with his work.

“Here, would you, would you like me to help you with the last scoring?” Anthony asked standing up and looking at Aziraphale gently.

Aziraphale’s face brightened, “Oh that would be wonderful, could you perhaps show me how to do a different design?” he asked, his hands nervously knitting his fingers together and wrapping them around each other.

“Sure, I don’t mind. Er, I best learned by, uh, being guided by mum, she would er, stand behind me, reach around me and she’d guide me. Is that, would that, that okay?” Anthony stuttered out rubbing the back of his neck as a blush creeped onto his cheeks.

He didn’t want Aziraphale thinking that he was taking this as a perfect opportunity to get closer to him and invade his space. Even though the urge to cup his gorgeous plump face in his hands and cover it in kisses was almost overwhelming.

“Oh, I suppose that would be alright, as long as you can manage to reach around me that is.” Aziraphale said with an embarrassed laugh.

Anthony’s eyebrows knit together, and his mouth pulled into a frown, “I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to.” He said cocking his head to the side and looking at Aziraphale.

“Why b-because I’m so f-f, large, since I’m so large, I dunno if you’d be able to guide me that way.” Aziraphale said stuttering.

Especially stuttering over the word ‘fat’, it had always been used in a cruel way, and he didn’t want to be cruel to himself, he was just simply wanting to use a proper descriptor, but he didn’t want to use that word and open it up for Anthony to use against him.

Anthony gave him a sad little smile, not wanting to placate Aziraphale or tease him in any way.

“I’ll be able to guide you just fine.” Anthony murmured gently, giving Aziraphale a smile, a gentle look from behind his sunglasses.

Aziraphale gave a small almost unperceivable nod.

Aziraphale quietly went to the counter’s edge and stood stock still as Anthony came up behind him, his lithe torso almost touching Aziraphale’s broad back, he could feel Anthony’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Okay Aziraphale, I’m going to put my arms around you, and kind of put my arms over yours to help with guiding you, is that okay?” Anthony asked softly, his words tickling the back of Aziraphale’s neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“That’s fine.” Aziraphale whispered, half in fear that Anthony won’t be able to reach around him enough to do what he was intending to do with guiding him in scoring the bread. That would be a new level of humiliating.

Anthony slowly leaned against Aziraphale, his torso gradually and gently pressed against Aziraphale’s back.  
Aziraphale felt his breath catch in his throat at the physical contact. The warmth coming off Anthony’s body was a mesmerizing heat that seared its spot against Aziraphale’s back.  
Charring in the silhouette of the slender being pressing against him. Anthony reached his long arms around Aziraphale encircling his body and wrapping his arms loosely around him, bringing them up to where Aziraphale’s arms rested onto the kitchen counter, lightly grazing his arms against Aziraphale’s he made them parallel to the soft plush arms that belonged to the baker, and he held his wrists up rigidly above Aziraphale’s.

“Is this okay?” Anthony asked in a low raspy voice.  
He was certain Aziraphale could feel how hard his heart was beating in his chest against his soft broad back.

“I-it is.” Aziraphale stuttered in a whisper.  
Aziraphale’s own heart was beating rapidly, pounding in his chest like a hummingbird, though at a harder velocity and tone. He was certain that Anthony could hear it, feel it, it was about to make him go deaf it was echoing in his ears so loudly.

“And I need to ah, p-place my hands on yours, and rest my arms on yours a b-bit. If that’s, if that’s okay.” Anthony stammered as he leaned a little more against Aziraphale’s back.

“Yes, that’s acceptable.” Aziraphale whispered, trying to prevent his voice from quavering.

He felt Anthony’s arms rest over his, the warmth from his arms scorched his skin like fire, a soothing fire that he did not want extinguished. Anthony’s slender wrists rested over Aziraphale’s and his hands carefully rested onto his. Anthony matched each knuckle up, each fingertip, and each molecule of skin and paused a moment, to settle, to let Aziraphale adjust to the feeling of his arms over his, his hands over his, his warmth mixing with his.

“Is, this er, still okay?” Anthony murmured, making Aziraphale’s ears tingle with the vibrato of the words spoken aloud in barely a whisper.

“Yes.” Aziraphale breathed out in a wisp.

“Now I’m going to rest my chin on your shoulder, if that’s okay?” Anthony queried.

“S-sounds t-tickety boo.” Aziraphale squeaked out, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Anthony chuckled at his affirmation and Aziraphale did everything in his power not to tremble and weaken at the knees at the melodious deep timbre that the chuckle entailed. Tried not to swoon at the way Anthony’s chuckle went through his whole body, making it vibrate against Aziraphale’s wide back, his arms, his hands.

He felt Anthony’s firm pointed chin rest on his shoulder, felt him nestle into the soft padded skin there and thought he could hear him practically purring.

Anthony tried not to let his heart implode as he brought Aziraphale into an encircled embrace, he felt his scrawny body sink into the plush soft back of the baker, ever so slightly as he reached to try and guide him.

He could smell the cologne the baker was wearing, and it nearly sent him into a haze of scents swirling together. He caught a head of bergamot, basil and lemon, mixing with neroli, jasmine, lily, rose, and the base seemed to be vetiver, cedar and patchouli, all a perfect blend of citrus and floral. Add in the scant scents of flour and bread, he wanted to smell this scent until it no longer lingered. It was the most heavenly aroma he could muster up in his mind’s eye.

"Is that, er, I mean, i like, i, Ngk, your cologne?" Anthony cursed himself, he was stuttering all over himself. He had almost said 'Is that a new cologne? You smell different.' But he didn't want Aziraphale thinking he was creepy.

"Ah, it's new. My barber suggested it." Aziraphale said warmly with a smile.

“Okay, let’s, let’s get started, ah, first, you pick up the lame, and hold it delicately but firmly.” Anthony murmured into Aziraphale’s ear, his voice a low level so not to pierce the baker’s eardrum.

Anthony helped to guide Aziraphale’s hand to pick up the lame and hold it, he gripped his hand around Aziraphale’s and helped him to hold it a certain way.

“Now with your other hand I want you to hold the pan steady, as we start to cut into the dough.” Anthony purred into Aziraphale’s ear, his voice so soothing and calming that Aziraphale felt like he could just wrap himself in the hum of his words and be at such a peace like he had never known.

Anthony didn’t have to direct Aziraphale as much with the holding of the pan, “Good, now, how does some flowers sound for a design?” Anthony asked as Aziraphale tentatively held the lame and studied the dough.

“That sounds wonderful.” Aziraphale whispered to Anthony, his voice catching in his throat slightly.

Anthony led Aziraphale’s pudgy hand holding the lame to the dough, “now make a cut into it,” Anthony encouraged. He let Aziraphale take the lead with the initial cuts, a curving swoop here, a gentle turn there.

“You’re doing well and I’m barely doing anything.” He chuckled into Aziraphale’s ear.

“The hard part comes with making the cuts make any sense, making them look like something.” Aziraphale said with a sigh as he took the lame away from the dough and looked at it.

Anthony surveyed from his spot on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He honestly wasn’t that bad; you could tell the design in the dough was meant to be flowers but some of the petal curves were all disconnected from each other.

“What would you like it to do? This is lovely how it is, in my opinion.” Anthony said turning his head slightly to catch the look of concentration that was flashing onto Aziraphale’s profile. His plump face thoughtful, his eyebrows scrunching up in indecisiveness, his slightly upturned nose wrinkling in frustration, his lower lip pouting, an adorable fold of extra skin just under his chin crinkled slightly. Anthony was thankful for his sunglasses and the position of his face because Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to see what a soppy mess he was being just from a glance.

“I want it to be less, disconnected, everything is all scattered around, and it just doesn’t make sense.” He whined with a further poofing out of his bottom lip.

“Want me to guide you for that?” Anthony offered in a murmur, his velvet voice striking a chord in Aziraphale’s chest.

“Would you?” He asked, turning his face slightly to be able to look at the redhead better.

A blush spread across Anthony’s face, instantaneously, spreading from the root of his hair to the tender skin of his throat.

“Of course.” Anthony whispered.

When Aziraphale turned his attention back to the dough he felt Anthony apply a little more firmness to his hands to guide him more than he had been previously. Aziraphale let himself relax slightly so Anthony could manipulate his hands better.

“The trick is to be a bit loose in your wrist, and just let the lame guide you.” Anthony said as he gently helped Aziraphale make cuts into the dough. Swirling it to make the flower petals connect and make sense.

“Like this?” Aziraphale asked as he tried to make a swirling curve in the dough.

Anthony smiled, turning his head to look at Aziraphale, the look of determination and eagerness unconcealed in his eyes, his blue eyes shining and sparkling more than any star in the sky.

“Exactly, just perfect.” Anthony said, as his gaze caressed Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale turned his head almost barely, but his eyes locked onto Anthony’s gaze and it was his turn to blush, a sweet pink tinge dusted his cheeks and nose, highlighting every sweet tan freckle in that patch of skin.

“Now something that I do sometimes, like with that last loaf, is add some taro powder for decoration, you don’t have to of course, but it just highlights certain things.” Anthony said trippingly, his words quickly escaping the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, that would be nice, now where did we place the taro powder?” Aziraphale asked looking along the counter and taking a step to the side and reaching for the bag of powder.

He reached across the counter and Anthony stumbled slightly, simultaneously Aziraphale realized Anthony was still leaning against him to guide him and turned quickly to try and catch him before he slithered to the floor.

Since Anthony was significantly taller than Aziraphale, Aziraphale’s attempt to catch Anthony was not in vain because he did catch him, but the slight mishap was, that at the angle he caught him, Anthony’s face was pressed against Aziraphale’s apron clad belly.

Instinctively Anthony’s long spindly arms wrapped around the nearest thing to catch him from falling and splatting onto the floor, and the nearest thing was Aziraphale’s waist.

Anthony was dead, he must be dead, because this, he felt like he was in heaven, surrounded by clouds, softness enveloping him, feeling like nothing he had ever felt before, and he felt such a comfort wrapped against the softness, the gentle swooping curve of the baker’s large forgiving belly. He didn’t want to unwind his arms from around his wide plush waist or raise his head from his lavish luxurious middle. He felt Aziraphale’s large plump hands on his shoulders, gripping him to help keep him from falling, even further than he already had. They were warm and strong and soft, and he wanted to feel those hands on his face, in his own hands, intertwined with his hands. Anthony felt like he had fallen headfirst into a cushiony soft oasis or a dreamland full of the softest pillows he could ever find. Anthony wanted to just let himself relax and drift off into this dreamworld, he was ready to sell his soul to God, or Satan, whoever would make this wonderful Eden of softness be everlasting.

Aziraphale was dead, he must be dead, because this, he felt like he was going to burst into flames from utter embarrassment from Anthony’s face being momentarily buried in the plush area of his large stomach. He felt Anthony’s long sinewy arms instinctively grab around his waist to keep from falling further, Aziraphale had attempted to grasp onto Anthony’s arms to help keep him from falling but had barely been able to grasp at his pointed shoulders with his meaty hands. Aziraphale clenched his eyes closed not wanting to see the disgust that was probably painted on Anthony’s face muffled against his broad gut, while his arms were sinking into the extra padding along his waist. Aziraphale wanted to sink below the floorboards and never show his face again. He would sell his soul to God or Satan, whoever would make this horrible perdition of mortification end.

Anthony didn’t want to move from where he was, he honestly wanted to stay in this plush paradise for eternity, he could, but he saw a pang of, something unpleasant cross over Aziraphale’s face and he felt guilty, Aziraphale clearly didn’t want person like him getting lost in his softness, didn’t want a gangly bony sod like him touching him.

Aziraphale was caught in a struggle of wanting Anthony to keep his arms wrapped around him, so he could feel the warmth he was exuding, and wanting him to untangle himself from around his stomach.

Aziraphale cleared his throat after another moment, cueing Anthony to blush and gently unwind from around him and rise from the awkward position he had been in. Though reluctant to remove himself from the haven of softness, he rose and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He mumbled to Aziraphale, embarrassment tinging his tone, and his cheeks.

“It’s q-quite alright, I should have remembered that you were right there behind me and that any swift movements would knock you over.” Aziraphale stuttered as his face turned a darker shade of pink.

“Thanks for catching me.” Anthony said, shooting a half smile up to Aziraphale, his sunglasses hiding the pining in his eyes.

“No trouble at all.” Aziraphale mumbled.

As they stood there avoiding eye contact, they both realized, at the same time, that they had yet to finish the task that they had been doing, in a fluid motion they both went back to the kitchen counter, this time Anthony stood next to Aziraphale and observed from the side.

“Well here is the taro powder.” Aziraphale said lamely grabbing the small bag.

“Perfect, now, just add a little to the dough where you want to highlight the scoring, like here where the flowers are, or at any cut you like.” Anthony said with a gently smile.

Aziraphale took a little bit of taro powder in his hand and added it to the dough where the little swirls indicating flowers were. He didn’t want to coat the dough in it, so he applied it sparingly.

“Once you’re done with that, you just bake it.” Anthony said with a shrug.

Aziraphale laughed and began to load the oven with all the loaves of bread.


	9. Ch. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baking pies and telling lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for anxiety attack, not a major one but all the same.

“Well, now that that’s all done with, there are some other things I was planning on working on for the morning, would you like to help me with pie filling? I have the bottom layer of crusts prepared for filling, and once the bread is done baking the pies should be ready to go in.” Aziraphale said quickly, in fear of any spaces in wording would give the red-haired man a means of escaping.

“Sure, though I’m not the best at pie fillings, mum really only taught me how to do scoring.” Anthony said sheepishly.

Aziraphale brightened, “If it’s something you’d like to learn I can definitely teach you. Not quite sure how much you would like to do since you were just offering your tasting services before.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping you out with things, maybe learning some new tricks along the way.” Anthony said with a smile.

Aziraphale beamed and went across the room to the walk-in fridge and grabbed the apples he had sliced earlier and brought them out, then went to the cooling closet and wheeled the pan rack where the crusts were cooling over to the island, then grabbed the rest of the supplies they would need from the pantry and brought them to the island.

“We just need to prepare the filling and any top crusts we would need.” Aziraphale said with a smile.

“Sounds good to me.” Anthony said with a shrug.

Aziraphale began melting a pot of butter on the stovetop.

“Now since I prepared the apples earlier, we’re in luck now. It can sometimes be a long delicate process. You must skin the apple, slice the apple, make sure all the seeds are out of the apple, which is very important. If the seeds are chewed or crushed, they release a small amount of cyanide which is highly toxic. Though someone would have to thoroughly chew and swallow at least eighty-five seeds before they experience any adverse effects. Can’t be too careful with those things. After doing those things you must also carve off the calyx, mesocarp, and endocarp. Not very delicious those parts I daresay. Though you still need to be careful with the carving of the apples, beginners tend to peel too much off the apple and take lots of apple flesh with it as well, which ends in more waste.” Aziraphale explained excitedly.

“You know an awful lot about apples, what is a calyx?” Anthony asked scrunching up his nose at the unfamiliar term.

Aziraphale smiled and crossed the room and grabbed an apple out of the storeroom and grabbed a knife. He easily and expertly cut the apple in half and gave half to Anthony. With his own piece he pointed to the different parts with the end of his knife.

“This is the calyx, this is the mesocarp and endocarp.” He with a smile taking a bite out of his part of the apple.

“How is it you know so much about apples?” Anthony asked with a chuckle, taking a bite out of his own piece.

“Oh, my family owns an orchard, a farm really, but it all started with an apple, an apple tree.” Aziraphale explained simply.

Anthony started choke on his apple realizing what he had brought up. Damn his stupid tongue, words kept slipping out that were going to give him away, and his own reactions to what he was saying would surely do that if nothing else would.

“Oh dear, are you alright? You seem to have been having troubles eating and drinking today.” Aziraphale said concerned, his eyebrows tilting upwards earnestly.

“’M fine, dunno what’s come over me today, can barely swallow my own spit.” Anthony half snarled, angry at himself.

Aziraphale chuckled as he finished his apple and then turned his attention to the butter melting on the stovetop. He glanced over his shoulder at Anthony who had since stopped coughing and was now standing and perusing the dry ingredients Aziraphale had placed on the countertop.

“So, what is it you do next with the filling?” Anthony asked with a finger to his chin, inspecting the bowl of apple slices as he asked.

“Well once the butter is melted, I’ll mix the butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and a secret ingredient together. Then once it’s all mixed up, we will slowly mix the apple slices into the mixture, then evenly spoon the filling mix into the crusts. Top them off with dough for the crust, and then bake.” Aziraphale explained with a smile as he continued to monitor the pot’s contents.

“What’s the secret ingredient?” Anthony asked offhandedly, smirking to see if Aziraphale would let it slip.

“Nice try you foul fiend. It’s a secret family recipe that has been passed down since my many times great grandfather started growing the first apple tree in the orchard.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, though after taste testing it, I may be able to guess it.” Anthony said raising an eyebrow.

“True, but I wouldn’t admit if your guesses were right or wrong.” Aziraphale said with a smirk.

Anthony gaped at him a moment, “You’re a right bastard, anyone ever tell you that?”

Aziraphale flashed a smile at Anthony after he was certain he was only being a sore loser.

“Ah, the butter is fully ready to receive the rest of the ingredients.” Aziraphale said bringing the pot over to the countertop where the rest of the ingredients were gathered, he went to grab the measuring devices he would need to fulfill the filling.

Anthony watched as Aziraphale effortlessly measured out different things in the measuring cups and spoons and without a second look put them into the melted butter. Measuring with one hand and mixing with the other.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Anthony asked feeling useless just standing there and watching the baker mix the ingredients together.

Aziraphale smiled and shook his head as he continued to mix, he smiled into the pot as he added cups of sugar and spoons of cinnamon and a dash of vanilla extract.

Anthony propped an elbow on the counter and held his pointy chin in the palm of his hand as he watched, mesmerized by the mixing. Though he saw people doing this every day, and though he himself has done it, there was something in the way that the baker moved, the way his humming sounded ethereal, that he was rapt with attention and didn’t want to miss a second of what he was doing.

His head of golden curls were shimmering in the gentle morning light drifting in through the small windows, his blue eyes were sparkling as he hummed to himself and mixed the pie filling together. The tender pink blush on his plump cheeks made Anthony think of hollyhock, and how a pretty of a pink their petals were. The light brown freckles speckled across his nose and cheeks made it look like he had been dusted with cinnamon.

Aziraphale glanced up from the mix, his eyes fleetingly darting to Anthony’s face. He had a look of tranquility and peace painted across his angled face, which made the fine lines across his forehead smooth out. His gorgeous high cheekbones, the arched scarlet brows, his sunglasses that hid the unquestionable beauty of his eyes. He was all acute angles and elongated limbs and he wanted nothing more than to gaze upon him for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, there were pies that still needed to be made.

Aziraphale sighed and began to fold the apple slices into the thick mixture.

“What’s next after making the filling?” Anthony asked as he gazed at Aziraphale with a besotted look masked by his sunglasses.

“Well, then we put it in the pies, then we make some dough for the crust and then pop those in the oven.” Aziraphale said as he continued to gently fold the apple slices into the sweet mixture.

“But we have to be sure that the filling tastes exactly right before we add it to the pie, let me add the rest of the ingredients and then we can taste a little smidge of it.” Aziraphale said turning slightly to hide the next added ingredient from Anthony’s curios gaze.

“Is that the secret ingredient?” Anthony asked grinning at Aziraphale’s attempts to hide the addition from him.

“Now whatever makes you ask that?” He asked with a chuckle from over his shoulder as he shook an unlabeled canister to let dark flakes fall into the mixture.

“The fact that you’re dramatically trying to hide the additional ingredient from me.” The redhead said pointedly as he nodded to the baker.

Aziraphale laughed, “Yes I suppose that would give it away.” He said sheepishly.

Anthony smiled as Aziraphale finished folding the apple slices into the mixture and adding the secret ingredient, then he brought the pot over and held a spoonful of mixture up to Anthony.

“Would you like to taste it?” He asked as he held his free hand under the spoon holding the thick mixture together so it wouldn’t dribble.

Anthony leaned forward slightly and took the spoon in his mouth, closing his eyes he let the flavors dance on his tongue as he slowly processed the taste.

The bit of apple he got on the bite was just aged enough, not mushy and not overly tart, the buttery filling was thick bordering on syrupy but just a bit thinner, and it had just enough sweetness in it to make him want more. He could taste the array of spices, cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, the vanilla extract, there was a hint of lemon juice, allspice, and something that he couldn’t name.

“Is that ginger?” Anthony asked with a furrowed brow trying to pinpoint the taste of the spice dancing on his tongue.

Aziraphale smirked, “I told you I wouldn’t tell even if you guessed.” He said drawing the spoon back and placing it in the sink before grabbing a large wooden spoon and carrying it and the pot to the pie pans that already had the under crust started and began adding filling to each one.  
Once all the pies had filling he applied a generous layer of flour to the counter top and his rolling pin then he went to the cooler and pulled out two large bowls and brought them over and brought a handful of dough out and began to hum to himself as he rolled out the dough for each pie.

“I premade the dough last night so it could rest properly and so all the flour would have a chance to hydrate.” He explained as he rolled.

Anthony watched as Aziraphale flattened out the dough to a certain thickness before he began to use a pastry cutter to cut out strips of dough, then he began to top the pies with a lattice cut. Once they were all covered with the beautiful braided designs he trimmed, sealed, and fluted each pie edges and then used a pastry brush to brush a coating of egg yolk.

“I variate between coating it with egg yolk or milk, that way the crust looks glossy and golden.” He explained as he brushed the edges.

“Now all we have to do is pop these in the oven and then once they are done, there’s a batch of cookies in the cooler that need frosted and then all the goods for today will be done.” Aziraphale said as he began putting the pies back onto the rolling rack and towards the oven.

As he carefully loaded the pies into the oven Anthony looked around, for such an old-fashioned bakery it had a good layout and equipment, there was a double deck oven where Aziraphale was placing the pies to bake. The bread they had scored was in a separate oven along the perpendicular wall with just one shelf inside, but it was big and deep, so it held the five boules of bread nicely.

The place seemed a bit cramped, but it was because there were so many large things in such a small area, not at all like the back oven room of Lucy’s which was large and spacious, but Lucy’s had been remodeled recently and more room had been a priority. Especially if they were to achieve the goals his uncle wanted them to achieve and be “the top bakery in Soho, in London! Win the War!”

Anthony shuddered trying to keep his uncle out of his mind, his task out of his mind, the day had started so nicely. Anthony clenched his eyes closed behind his sunglasses and tried to will the thoughts he was having away.

‘Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it’ he repeated to himself over and over trying not to outwardly show his inner turmoil.

Behind his closed eyes was darkness, then his uncle’s sneering face, looking at him as if he was mess on his boots, his cousin’s faces behind him making similar expressions, sneers, taunting gestures. Then a memory of him in bed, curled into a ball, crying for his mother, while his cousins laughed at him for being a baby.

His mother’s face replaced everything, and she just smiled and reached for Anthony, but he couldn’t move to be enveloped in her embrace, and she dropped her arms and shook her head sadly. His uncle appeared next to her and he turned and led her away down a dark tunnel, he peeked at Anthony over his shoulder and he had the face of a demon with fangs showing and glistening.

“Are you alright?” He heard a voice say.

His eyes snapped open and Aziraphale was standing close to him, looking concerned, his plump hand reaching toward Anthony.

Anthony tuned into everything at that moment exhaling as he assessed his heartbeat, his stance, his facial expression.

“er, ‘m-m okay, just some, bad thoughts seeping in making my anxiety flare up.” Anthony said wearily.

“You look pale, here, come sit down.” Aziraphale reached up and gently grabbed Anthony by the upper arm and guided him to the decorating table with a couple of chairs, Aziraphale pulled out a chair for Anthony to sit down.

“Thanks.” Anthony murmured as he rested his elbows on the top of the table, he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead and held his face in his palms.

His ears pricked as Aziraphale slid the chair next to him out and felt him, more than saw him sit in it.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Aziraphale asked, gently touching Anthony’s shoulder.

Anthony sighed slowly pulling his face away from his hands and looking at Aziraphale.

“No, but thank you, I’m going to get on my phone for a second and see if my app helps, if not I’ll go out to the car and get a couple of my meds.” Anthony said gently.

“Is my hand here helping or hurting you?” Aziraphale asked softly.

Anthony realized that the baker hadn’t removed his hand from his shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing the pointed peak of the bone barely sheathed by skin and cloth.

“It’s, helping.” Anthony said with a small smile to Aziraphale.

“Is there anything I can do? I know what helps me sometimes is breathing exercises, and listening to music.” Aziraphale offered with a sheepish smile.

Anthony’s lips curled up into a slightly bigger smile than he had on a moment ago, “Sometimes those help me too. I usually just get on my phone and use this app.” He said reaching back and slipping his cell out of his pocket angling it towards Aziraphale so he could see what he was using and doing in case it was something he thought he would use.

“Oh, how clever, why they seem to have applications for everything these days. I still have a very erm, outdated mobile so I don’t think mine would be able to download an application like that, especially one that would take up so much data.” Aziraphale said fussily, his pretty face turning into a grimace.

Anthony chuckled at Aziraphale and felt the anxiousness that had been thrumming through him slowly dissolve as he showed Aziraphale the different features of the app and how it worked and which things worked for him.

“I may have to get an upgrade on my mobile, this application seems like it would be helpful to use.” Aziraphale said pulling a flip phone out of his apron pocket and showing it to Anthony.

Anthony barked a laugh, “Yeah you’d definitely need an upgrade from that model, I don’t even know if that model will download an app.” He said handing the ancient device back to Aziraphale.

The timer on the double oven dinged and Aziraphale’s face brightened, “That would be the pies, excuse me I’ll be right back.” Aziraphale said as he rose from the chair.

Anthony turned and watched him as he put on a couple of oven mitts and then carefully take the pies out of the double oven pan by pan and then slid the pans onto the cooling rack.

“They smell really good.” Anthony admitted as the scent of the fresh baked pies wafted into his nostrils, and his stomach tightened slightly.

“You’ll have to try one once they have cooled down.” Aziraphale said smiling and taking his seat again next to Anthony.

A couple beams of sunlight started streaming in through the windows and Anthony squinted a bit.

“Oh dear, I didn't think to pull the curtains closed, let me remedy that." Aziraphale said heading towards the windows.

"Thanks." Anthony said, the dimmer light not affecting his eyes as much, he liked being able to see Aziraphale without that darker tinge the glasses gave everything.

"There we go." Aziraphale said sitting back down next to Anthony, his soft side barely brushing against him as he got comfortable in the chair.

Anthony felt his heartbeat quicken at that barest form of touch. Just like it did that first day when they had bumped into each other.

"If, if I may say something, about your eyes? It may be too forward." Aziraphale prodded gently.

Anthony readied himself for the usual comments of how rude it was to wear sunglasses indoors, or how this surgery helped so and so’s uncle or aunt, or how if he ate loads of carrots his vision would improve.

"Sure." He sighed bracing himself.

Aziraphale's hands fiddled with each other and he looked at them as he spoke, "they," he paused to clear his throat.

"They are, very, p-pret- n-ni- uniquely colored, in a good way, th-they are rather lo-lov, p-pretty." Aziraphale stuttered out with a splash of bright pink spreading across his face, making his beautiful blue eyes stand out more, his hands furiously fidgeting and his fingers knotting and unknotting repetitively.

Anthony’s eyes widened at the compliment, he could never remember anyone complimenting the strange color of his defective eyes, the only thing he really could remember was his uncle snarling about how the doctor’s visits cost more money than he was worth.

“Um, thank you, that is very nice of you to say.” Anthony said, making sure he took that compliment and kept it in a safe place, locked in his mind where he could access it easily. To replay again and again, to feel

Aziraphale actively avoided looking at Anthony until his blush faded, he knew if he did look at him that he would want to spout off more compliments about his beautiful honey toned eyes, and he didn’t want to scare Anthony away. He liked the interactions he had had with him, and he liked that they seemed to get along so easily.

As he glanced back at Anthony’s face he saw that Anthony had been staring at him, a gentle smile on his face, his dimples out of hiding, his honey eyes fixated on his face.

Aziraphale took a sharp intake of breath and tried to keep his heart from going into overdrive. Anthony cleared his throat and Aziraphale looked back to him.

Anthony took in a deep breath, looking nervous and said quickly, “So this will be a nice thought to keep in my head when I am feeling bad about them. So thank you, very much, I think you’re the first person to say something nice about my eyes since my mum died It really is a nice thing for you to say, I ah, growing up I mean, with my, er, uncle, he wasn’t always the nicest, and when my eyes started having troubles, and needing medications and doctor appointments he would express his er, distaste for that, and my eyes.”

Anthony abruptly stopped and looked at Aziraphale as he processed what he had sputtered out. His cherubic face looked sad, his lips pulled into a pout, his blue eyes wide.

“I, can relate to that, being raised by an uncle that was, not pleasant.” Aziraphale murmured gently, his eyes glancing away from Anthony as he spoke.

“You were raised by your uncle too?” Anthony’s eyes widened.

“Yes, my mother was quite ill when I was born and died shortly after, never heard about or knew my father, and my grandfather raised me until he passed away himself. I was about oh thirteen when I moved in with my aunt and uncle.” Aziraphale said, his eyes seeming to get sadder as he spoke about his grandfather passing.

“My mum died when I was a kid too, she had cancer and must’ve known that it was going to win at some point while I was still young because she tried to teach me so much while she was alive. My dad had split, she would always say nice things about him, and I had a grimy photograph of them together before I came around. After she died I landed with my uncle and his kids.” Anthony said, memories swirling in his head.

They sat in heavy silence for a few moments before the timer went off.

Aziraphale silently rose from the chair and went to take the bread out of the oven.

“Oh, Anthony,” He said in such a sweet breathless voice that made Anthony’s heart ache.

“W-wot is it?” Anthony asked looking towards the oven.

“These are beautiful.” Aziraphale exclaimed holding up a boule of bread to show him.

Anthony smiled and got up from the chair to join Aziraphale at the oven and looked at the breads being pulled out to cool. The boule that he helped Aziraphale with was, in his opinion, the prettiest of them all. The sweet little swirling flowers, the crust perfectly baked.

“These will definitely sell.” Aziraphale said smiling broadly.

Anthony smiled at him and then stepped aside so Aziraphale could maneuver around without him being in the way.

“What do we need to do next?” Anthony asked.

“Well, it’s close to opening time, we can load the display case with the goods we have so far, the pies, muffins, scones, and breads. The muffins and scones are usually good sellers first thing in the morning, the pies and breads usually last till the end of the day, or the end of the week if they aren’t sold.” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

Anthony smiled warmly as Aziraphale brought out the rolling cooling carts piled with muffins and scones, remembering how the baker selflessly gave away unsold product last time they saw each other.

“Is there any particular way you want them displayed?” Anthony asked as he trailed next to Aziraphale as they went through the swinging door that led to the bakery’s shopfront.

“I usually place it by when they were baked, so these will go on the far right of the case, our right, the customers left.” Aziraphale explained.

Anthony followed Aziraphale and began placing the pastries in the display cabinet, once they were all loaded he began to look around and inspect the area behind the case he stood near the cash register to give Aziraphale some room. His eyes landed on a framed picture and he picked it up to inspect it more.

Even without being told he knew that the boy in the photo was a younger Aziraphale. He had the same golden curls, big blue eyes, and dazzling smile. He was looking at the older man with adoration in his eyes, chubby hands covered in flour and dough. The older man was looking at Aziraphale with just as much adoration in his eyes. A big bushy light gray beard cascaded down his barrel chest, he looked a lot like Santa Claus but with a slightly darker hair color, and more curls in his hair. Anthony glanced from the grandfather in the picture to the Aziraphale in front of him, the crinkles around the eyes were the same, same large build, same blue eyes. Only differences were the hair colors and Aziraphale had a more pronounced nose.

Anthony smiled and placed the photograph back down and looked back at Aziraphale who had finished setting the breads in the display case.

“That was my grandfather.” Aziraphale said, noting that Anthony had placed the photograph down.

“It was easy to guess, you look like him, practically twins, and I mean that as a compliment.” Anthony said with a chuckle.

Aziraphale smiled gently and went towards the front door, flipping the sign from closed to open.

“And now, the game’s afoot.” He said coming back around the counter and sitting on the stool behind the counter with a little wiggle In the seat.  
Anthony smiled and grabbed one of the chairs from the dining area and brought it around and parked it next to Aziraphale, and he sat down and they waited in comfortable silence for a customer.


	10. Ch. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and comfort and almost kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW use of the word fat/internalized fatphobia. Use of the word fat as a descriptor neither negative or positive just factual. 
> 
> Been in a similar place that Azi's in, teeny tiny squeeze yourself in compact space seats and too much of me to fit comfortably.   
> Made it through the show barely comfortable from my hips and thighs being squeezed to death and didnt even want to get up for any reason except to go. 
> 
> So I see you fat people and I'lll promise to keep the experiences realistic, but with a warning.

After several hours of being open and selling most of the scones and muffins, Aziraphale waited until the current customers left the storefront before turning to Anthony. 

"How are you holding up?" He asked him cheerfully.

"Starting to get a bit sleepy to be honest." Anthony said stifling a yawn.

"How do you feel about taking a break? Go grab a bite to eat, maybe some coffee." Aziraphale said standing from his seat behind the display case and stretching his arms over his head.

"Sounds alright to me, I can drive us." Anthony said standing up and stretching his lower back.

"Oh." Aziraphale started swiftly looking at Anthony. 

"I, I actually, my flat is upstairs i can grab something from there if i get peckish. I had just noticed you didn't bring a lunch with you, and of course you're welcome to have anything of mine to eat as well, but I didn't mean to imply that we go somewhere for lunch together and for you to drive us." Aziraphale stuttered out.  
He didn't mind the thought of sharing a ride in Anthony's car, or sitting close to Anthony. But he didn't want him thinking he was trying to snake his way closer to him.  
Seeing the look on Anthony's face when he explained himself made him feel worse.

"And not that, not that I wouldn't enjoy us going to get a nibble together, I just didn't want to invite myself along with you, or assume you'd like to spend more time with me, and of course if you'd rather come up to my flat and have something, oh bother I'm prattling on." Aziraphale felt the heat fill his face as he blushed and saw the confused look on Anthony's face.

“Whatever you’d like is fine with me, I don’t mind driving us somewhere for a bite, and I don’t mind going alone, and I don’t mind going up to your flat. You pick.” Anthony said with a wave of his hand trying to sound nonchalant when really, he was excited and nervous about the idea of either driving Aziraphale somewhere or going up to his flat.

Aziraphale debated over the options for a moment, his face scrunching up in thought. He didn’t want to force himself on Anthony any more than he was already, but if Anthony didn’t mind then maybe he wanted to spend more time with him too.

“We could, we could go somewhere for a bite I suppose. Unless you would rather have some sushi that I have upstairs.” Aziraphale said, offering one more way out for Anthony if he wanted it.

“Not the biggest fan of sushi, so, what sounds good to you?” Anthony asked Aziraphale with an earnest look on his face.

“Well that depends on if you’d rather go inside somewhere to eat or grab something from a window.” Aziraphale said reaching behind him to untie his apron.

“No offense Aziraphale, but you don’t seem like the “grabbing something from a window type”.” Anthony said with a chuckle.

Aziraphale chuckled, “Well you aren’t wrong there.” He said as he led Anthony to the back and went to the back corner by the door and hung his apron up on the coatrack. He held the back door open for Anthony and locked the backdoor, then tucked his keys into his pocket as he turned and followed Anthony to the alley next to the bakery and an older automobile parked behind his truck.

“What a lovely automobile.” Aziraphale said surveying the car, reflecting every bit of light that the sun could shine through the clouds.

“Thanks, my father left it for me before he died, it’s a 1926 Bentley, all original parts, except the electrical system, Bluetooth, and CD player, I had those installed a year ago so I could listen to music while I drove around.” Anthony said going around to open the passenger door for Aziraphale.

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale said surprised at the gesture.

He ducked his head to sit down in the passenger’s seat, noting how he felt somewhat cramped in it, and then he began to worry about the seatbelt. If it was an original antique Bentley, the seatbelt may not fit around him, and that would be horribly embarrassing. He wondered If though the Bentley was an antique if it would have been updated enough to have the dinging noise if you didn’t have a seatbelt on. As Anthony came around to sit in the driver’s side Aziraphale tried to reach the seatbelt around himself.  
He felt his face turn warm and probably a shade of crimson, when the belt would not extend to the length he needed to buckle himself in. He tried again, using both hands to pull the belt, and with no use or give from the ancient leather, he felt shame and embarrassment ice his heart, while the heat of a blush splattered across his face.

Anthony folded himself into the driver’s seat, grinning and turning to Aziraphale, and his smile immediately disappeared.

“What’s wrong Aziraphale?” He asked concern dripping thickly from every syllable.

“Oh, ah, nothing is really the matter, nothing to worry about. I, I just,” Aziraphale sighed deeply, wanting to disappear beneath the floormats of the car. He took a deep breath and spit the words out quickly before he could stop himself, “I’m too f-fa, large and the seatbelt is not long enough to wrap around me properly. I’m terribly sorry, I am quite embarrassed, it’s my own fault for being so, getting so f-fat, it wouldn’t be a problem for someone of a normal stature, but I am quite the opposite of that and I barely fit anywhere as it is and I just am so...” Aziraphale trailed off finally, his brain realizing what he was saying and spewing out before he could filter it. It all had come out so quickly, the stream of words pouring out of his mouth before he could think enough to hold them back, tears springing to his eyes, threatening to spill. He clenched them closed and clenched his hands into fists.

“Aziraphale.” Anthony said firmly.

Aziraphale opened his right eye slightly, peeking at Anthony, hoping the stupid tears that were gathering would not escape.  
Anthony was turned to him, one hand suspended in the air, as if he had been reaching towards Aziraphale, the corners of his mouth dragged downward, his eyebrows tilting sincerely.

“Aziraphale,” He repeated, his voice gravelly and catching, he cleared his throat, “Aziraphale, you should not be sorry about this, I should be sorry, I didn't even think about it. You were not made just to fit into seats, or cars, or what have you. Those things were created for people, to suit people and be at their disposal. We are not created for them. You should never ever feel embarrassed or ashamed for something like that. It just means that whatever isn't fitting you needs replaced or repaired to fit you properly. Means it is defective, not you." 

Anthony paused and took a breath, "And just because you're fat doesn't mean you aren't worthy of belonging somewhere or fitting somewhere. Doesn't make you not worthy or and not less than anything. Just means there's more of you, and that just means the rest of us are lucky.” Anthony expressed this so tenderly, that Aziraphale felt like his cheek had been caressed by angelic feathers.

“You, you are too kind.” Aziraphale murmured, looking up at Anthony.

“How about, we order something for delivery? Would that work? I don’t want to drive you anywhere unless you’re safely secured. I’m a bit of a speed demon.” Anthony asked gently, chuckling at the speed demon part.

Aziraphale chuckled a bit, “We could do that, or if you’d like I can drive us in my truck, might be able to get something warm that way.” Aziraphale said looking Anthony full in the face for the first time. Anthony’s face was tinged a bright pink shade, and his lips were pulled into a sweet smile now, his lips curling delicately.

“That would be nice.” Anthony said, his smile widening.

Anthony clambered out of the Bentley and came over to open the door for Aziraphale, he took his plump hand into his own slender one and helped him out of the car.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale said surprised as he rose gently from the Bentley’s passenger seat he paused at Anthony standing there, his slender hand still cradling his own and the other lanky hand on the door of the car.

Neither of them moved, and it seemed as if time had stopped, as if someone had thrown up their arms and stole a piece of time and space and made everything around them freeze to give them a moment of privacy.

Aziraphale could feel his pulse quicken and quiver to a pace similar to that of hummingbird flitting from flower to flower in the boundless search for nectar. He could feel a deep ache in his chest that panged through every atom and molecule that made up the inner workings of his heart. He could feel a tingling in his belly that felt like musical notes being plucked on mandolin strings. Looking up at Anthony’s face, he wanted to burn his face into his memory forever; his hidden honey hued eyes, his curled sunset tinted hair, his warm kind smile.

He didn’t think he was feeling light headed or that the ground was moving from underneath him, but he could swear this was how it felt before someone fainted. Aziraphale didn’t care, he’d faint every day if it meant that he could gaze on Anthony’s beautiful angular face. The emotions flitting across his features made him want to gently take his hands and trace his brow with his fingertips, ease away the tensions and anxieties held there.

Anthony could feel his usual constant incessant thoughts calm and slow, feel a warmth spreading through his skin starting from where Aziraphale's soft hand rested in his and tendril through his veins. He could feel a tingling in his stomach like the flapping of a thousand butterflies fluttering around in his abdominal cavity. He could feel his breath escape his lungs making its last attempts at oxygen to come out as a gentle sigh. He could feel his chest tighten, constricting as if twined by a snake wanting to give a him cuddle. The look on Aziraphale’s face made him want to gently caress his rounded cheeks with his thumbs and cradle his sweet face in his hands.

He didn’t think he was smelling burnt toast, but he was sure this was similar to how a stroke felt, he didn’t care either way, he didn’t want to break this trance that he was in. He looked at Aziraphale’s big blue eyes, luckily his own were hidden by his sunglasses so Aziraphale wouldn’t be alarmed by his blatant staring and swooning.

Aziraphale felt himself wanting to lean in more, wanting to rest his head against Anthony’s delicate chest, listen to his heart beat until he could memorize the rhythm and synch his own to match.

Anthony wanted to twine his arms around Aziraphale and hold him closely to his bird-like chest and keep him nestled against him until he could breathe in and out with him and match each smallest inhale, and each minute exhale.

Anthony’s lips parted as if to say something, what exactly he wasn’t sure, guilt was eating him alive the more he looked into those crystal blue eyes the more he wanted to confess everything to Aziraphale and then proclaim his feelings of adoration to him.

Aziraphale smiled, his plump lips widening sweetly.

“Excuse me gentleman,” A no nonsense voice sliced through the air and both Anthony and Aziraphale turned to see who it belonged to.

“Hate to break up an intimate moment, but is A Slice of Heaven closed? I was needing to pick up a few pies for a work function, and my boss will kill me if I don’t get pies from this bakery.” A short woman wearing a dark colored blazer and skirt said as her high heels clicked along the concrete.

Anthony and Aziraphale looked back at each other and Anthony briskly edged away from Aziraphale by taking a step backwards as he did so he let his hands suspend in the air as if he was a schoolboy getting caught kissing a girl in a dark corridor, Aziraphale readjusted his sweater and tugged it down over his wide belly.

“Ah, it’s c-closed at the moment, we were just about to go to lunch, but I can get you what you need, get you all set, does that sound t-tickety boo?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly and shaky at the same time.

“That would be wonderful, I’m so sorry to interrupt your lunch.” She said apologetically, her face breaking from seriousness into a smile.

“No worries madame.” Aziraphale said, he looked up at Anthony, who was still standing in such a way that was blocking Aziraphale’s path, he would either have to wait for Anthony to move or bump into him.

“Excuse me dear.” Aziraphale said hesitating before taking a step forward.

“Oh right of course of course. Excuse me.” Anthony said stepping out of Aziraphale’s way.

Aziraphale blushed brilliantly as he walked past, “I’ll be right back, um if you’d like my truck is just there, and it’s unlocked if you would like to wait in it, or near it…” Aziraphale said not meeting Anthony’s gaze and gesturing at the green old fashioned truck with wooden slats at the bed parked nearby.

“Sounds tickety boo Aziraphale.” Anthony said with a crooked grin.

Aziraphale’s face whipped up in surprise to see Anthony gazing at him again, a light blush across his face.

Aziraphale smiled and led the lady inside to help her with her purchase, leaving Anthony standing in the alley watching them as they walked out of eyesight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lunch outing between two colleagues?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I always do extensive research when I mention specific places in fics, so yes this is an actual cafe in London, I believe SoHo but it's 6am and I've worked 16 hours today.  
> Their crepes look AMAZING.
> 
> Caution, there are references to fatphobia and anxiety.

Ch. 11

“Shit shit shit shit shit! Why me?” Anthony lamented as he climbed into the old fashioned truck and settled himself into the passenger side of the bench seat.

He growled to himself as he thumped and bounced in the seat until he calmed down. Anger and disgust were wracking though him as he realized yet again the task he was set forth to do with Aziraphale, as well as realizing that he had the irrevocable and powerful urge to kiss him just now. And that urge mixed with the task made him want to vomit.

He groaned loudly and bopped the back of his head on the head rest of the seat repeatedly, bouncing harder and harder and groaning angrily until his groan turned into an elongated squalling howl that made his throat hurt and gave his vocal chords a good exercise in caterwauling. He heaved a sigh and let the back of his head rest on the old leather cushion that smelled of the baker and slightly of dust, as if he didn’t have many, if any people riding shotgun with him.

That thought made Anthony sad, and he looked toward the mouth of the alley where Aziraphale would be coming around the corner at. He should have loads of people dying to be seated in the passenger’s side of the ancient farming truck, he was very sweet and nice and kind. Not at all like the people that Anthony had always been around, even other people that he halfway considered friends had been as nice to him as Aziraphale had been even in just the few times they had been together.

Anthony straightened up in his seat when he saw the familiar rounded shape turn the corner and head to the truck. He smiled to himself as he watched Aziraphale walk toward him, the way he even walked was unlike something he had never seen in anyone else before. Kind of like a giant kindly penguin, not that he waddled, but he seemed to survey everything he passed as he passed it. Taking in everything on either side of him, with a slight twist of the torso and a glance, a brief smile when everything was noted to be in tip top shape, hands twiddling together over his broad belly, or fiddling with and pulling at the hem of his sweater. His anhydrite shaded eyes not missing a detail in their surroundings spotting everything from the most miniscule drop of dew on a blade of grass, to a bird on the rooftops edge, a fluttering piece of trash on the ground, which he promptly picked up and placed in the rubbish bin along the wall of the alley. As he came closer Anthony saw him pulling a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of his pocket and squirting some on his hands before rubbing them together. Anthony smiled as Aziraphale waved his hands a little bit to help the drying process of the sanitizer, and then finally arriving at the truck and opened the driver’s door and slid inside.

“Dreadfully sorry about that, poor dear was so upset about interrupting our lunch. I told her it was hardly any trouble at all. She did buy three of the pies we made this morning so that’s very good.” Aziraphale said as he pulled his seatbelt easily over his large frame.

“Now, where would you like to eat for lunch?” He asked clicking the seatbelt into place and looking up at Anthony with a smile.

“Ngk-ga-go go wherever you’d like. ‘m not picky.” Anthony stuttered, those dazzling eyes did something to him, something to his heart, twisted it in a way that felt happily painful.

Aziraphale pursed his lips in thought, “What would you say to some crêpes?” He asked, his eyes gleaming and his lips puckering into an almost sort of pout.

Anthony chuckled, “Crêpes sound alright to me.” He said clicking his own seatbelt into place.

Aziraphale smiled, and Anthony felt another twist of his heart as the engine of the truck rumbled and Aziraphale gently began to drive out of the alley and onto the road.

Aziraphale flicked on the radio and kept the noise level low to the classical music station that he had it on, he began to hum to himself as he turned a corner. Aziraphale glanced at Anthony out of the corner of his eye and it seemed as if the gentle drive had lulled him to sleep, he was sitting in a relaxed way against the seat of the truck, one arm propped up on the back of the bench seat, leaving his long agile fingertips rather close to Aziraphale’s cheek. Aziraphale briefly wondered how it would feel if his fingers gently grazed his cheek, and then tried to immediately think of other things.

As Aziraphale tried to sneak glances at Anthony, Anthony was once again thankful for his sunglasses, and how they hid his eyes very well, he was at a perfect angle to gaze at Aziraphale appreciatively, his long arm was casually draped across the back of the bench seat, his spindly hands were quite close to Aziraphale’s face, if he stretched slightly he would be able to touch his soft cheek with his fingertips. The rosy plump soft cheeks, he wanted to lightly trace the round softness of it, trace over the blush that would stain them, trace over the delicate creases that danced over them. ‘O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek,’ Anthony bemused, oddly fitting that a quote from Romeo and Juliet snaked through his mind.

Aziraphale tried to think of something he could think about other than how it would feel to have Anthony’s hand gently touch his cheek, his books, and how he hasn’t added a new one to the collection recently. Or that he still had a stack upstairs that needed restored and rebound, those thoughts did it and Aziraphale promptly furrowed his brow and pursed his lips as he went through the non-bakery things he would like to do at some point in the near future.

“What’s got your face all scrunched up?” Anthony mumbled from the passenger seat.

Aziraphale, surprised that he was awake, let alone looking at his face, glanced at him, and then back to the road.

“Oh, I was just thinking about some books I have been meaning to restore, an auction that I’ll be missing next week, when I can find time I have some that are waiting to be repaired. It seems like I rarely have time for my books and spend all of my time at the bakery, or the farm.” Aziraphale finished with a heavy sigh.

“Is there someone else who can help you with the bakery so you have more time to work on your books?” Anthony asked with a grunt as he sat up more on his side of the bench seat, his arm slipping back more towards himself.

“No, not really. The rest of my family wants nothing to do with the bakery, except to make sure I “fulfill my duties” and “Follow the Great Plan”, doesn’t matter that they get to do what they want.” Aziraphale said with a touch of bitter sarcasm.

“The Great Plan?” Anthony asked quirking an eyebrow up.

“It was my grandfather’s plan, that the bakery stay in the family, passed down from one generation to the next. He also wanted the farm to continue to flourish since it is not only a farm, but a historical landmark of sorts, centuries old apple orchards and what not. My aunts and uncles like running the farm more so than they do baking, so they highly insisted I take over. It would bring great shame to the family, in fact it would be positively wrathful. Possibly get me kicked out of the family all together, denounced, downcast, and tossed out like an old dishrag. If my grandfather were still alive he would insist I do what I love, but, since he’s gone, I mean, I could go off and do what I would love with my books. Perhaps open a bookshop, sell antiques and rare editions, but I would have nothing, I wouldn’t have a place to stay since the flat is above the bakery, I wouldn’t have any income to start out with, I wouldn’t have hardly any savings, I would have no one to turn to for support…” Aziraphale trailed off.

Hearing him say these things out loud was making Anthony’s heart tear, a small rip right between the superior vena cava and the aortic valve, a small little tear right in that center.

“Sorry to be prattling on and bringing the ambiance down.” Aziraphale said in an almost whisper.

“Hey, it’s not trouble at all, besides, I know how you feel.” Anthony started before he could stop himself.

“Y-you do?” Aziraphale asked turning to glance at him before refocusing on the road.

“Yeah, I, er, my family seems to have a similar mindset about duty to family and all that. If you go against them you’re in for a lot of wrath and hellfire.” Anthony stuttered, catching himself before he said more, forcing out a chuckle to play off his millionth blunder.

“Duty to family can be a, difficult thing to contend with, luckily, hopefully, we can maneuver around it to do what we like.” Aziraphale said with a little sad smile.

Anthony wanted to wrap his long arms around Aziraphale just then, give him a big hug, he squelched the voice he was hearing saying that he should ask Aziraphale to run away with him, far away from both of their horrid families, where Aziraphale can have his books, and Anthony could have his plants. Far away to another place, another planet, hell even another galaxy, into the stars if it was written to be that way, even if it wasn’t maybe they could go there.

A sigh parted Anthony’s lips as he looked away from Aziraphale and out the window, wanting to distract himself before he said something stupid, the outside surroundings were nice, they were coming along Belmont Road, passing nice older buildings mixed with newer more hip and popular establishments, like a Starbucks and a old theatre, there was a park that was in adjacent to an old church, they passed a group of tent stands full of flowers and produce. Anthony looked closely at the flowers as they passed the stands, smiling at the rainbow of blooms. Aziraphale began to pull the truck along the side of the street in a parking spot.

“Here we are,” he said gesturing to the little restaurant nestled between an office supply store and a hair salon was Crêpeaffaire Café and Crêperie, a nondescript place that anyone would have passed over due to the lack of pizazz that the other storefronts had.

“Oh you weren’t kidding about the crêpes.” Anthony chuckled as he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the truck.

“Oh, I am never kidding about crêpes, best I’ve ever had were in Paris, but these are so scrumptious that they may come top.” Aziraphale smiled gracefully sliding out of his side of the truck.

Anthony grinned and fell in step next to Aziraphale as they walked across the street to the sidewalk in front of the café, and Anthony clambered to open the door for Aziraphale.

“Oh thank you.” Aziraphale said with a little blush creeping onto his face.

Anthony just smiled dumbly back, stricken with the inability to speak for a moment. He followed Aziraphale inside the café and looked around at the nice interior. It was nice, modern and cozy at the same time, there was a soft looking couch against the storefront window a table and comfy chair adjoining it. The interior had other couch and chair settings with tables in between, all on a concrete floor. White walls decorated with cute signs and punny ones, talking about breakfast and how food fills the soul. There was a giant form of word art on one wall of a heart made up with breakfast words, bacon crêpes, eggs, fresh, flour, all related to breakfast or the menu presumably in one way or another. The cashing counter and waiting counter wrapped around a good portion of the facility with a wraparound display of packaged breads, on the back wall of that the menu for the business, displays of fruits and a drink refrigerated drink station sat on the ends. Aziraphale waved at a waitress at the counter and she greeted him with a smile, Aziraphale led Anthony to an area of the counter that he could read the menu without getting in anyone’s way or wouldn’t trouble anyone if he took more than a couple minutes to order.

“Can you see the menu from here? If you’d like I can read it to you.” Aziraphale offered when he saw Anthony’s face scrunching up in frustration.

Anthony smiled hesitantly, “I don’t want to be a bother.” He mumbled looking down at his shoes and jamming his fists in his pockets.

“No trouble at all, are you in the mood for something sweet, or savory? They have different menu sections for sweet, savory, breakfast, vegan, waffles, and mini pancakes. We can look at drinks after you find something you’d like to try.” Aziraphale smiled at him softly.

“Hmm, something sweet sounds good.” Anthony smiled broadly at the sweet baker, who was looking at the menu closely, one elbow supported by one plump hand, the other hand holding his lovely cushiony chin up, pondering. Anthony noticed how his knuckles had dimples decorating them, as if someone kissed him too hard on the hand and it left an impression. Aziraphale’s brows were furrowed as he studied the menu, trying to determine what would befit Anthony for his first visit to this eatery.

“How do you feel about the different flavors of lemon, Belgium chocolate, and butterscotch?” Aziraphale asked turning to Anthony, seeing a blush start to appear on his face as he glanced away from Aziraphale, “I’m not much for butterscotch, the other two are both good.” He said looking back up, his gaze locking onto Aziraphale’s for a moment.

Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest, and he exhaled sharply, though he couldn’t see the eyes behind the sunglasses, he could feel them latching onto his own eyes.

“T-then I recommend the Belgian chocolate crêpes, or the lemon and sugar crepes, which would you like, or both?” Aziraphale stuttered tripping gently over the words, trying to gather his thoughts that all escaped his mind when he looked at Anthony.

“I think I’ll try the Belgian chocolate crêpes, if that’s alright.” Anthony replied, his gaze going back to his shoes, and a lock of fiery hair falling into his face.

“Of course, that is quite alright, now, they also have a drink menu.” Aziraphale his mouth pulled in a grimace as he tried to not allow himself to reach up and tuck that unruly strand of hair behind Anthony’s ear.

“T-They have smoothies, juices, tea, coffee, milkshakes, hot chocolate, loose leaf teas, cortado, fresh mint tea, and fancier coffees like macchiatos, espressos that sort of thing. I am particularly fond of their ultimate hot chocolate.” Aziraphale said sneaking a grin to Anthony.

“If you are fond of it, it must be good, I’ll try one of those too, um if you’d like I can grab us a table while you order?” Anthony faltered as he looked at Aziraphale and blushing.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Aziraphale replied.

Anthony practically sprinted away from Aziraphale and headed towards the couch and chair combination seating towards the front of the café, Aziraphale watched as he yanked out the chair and plopped himself into it, facing away from Aziraphale and out the window wall of the café front.

Aziraphale’s lips pressed into a thin line, he must be projecting his fondness for Anthony onto him, and it is making the man uncomfortable, he must not be as subtle as he thinks he is with his mooning over him. He sighed deeply and took a step toward the waitress, Millie, and waited his turn to order their food.

Anthony slid his sunglasses onto his forehead and groaned quietly, he held his face in his hands, trying to get a fucking grip on himself, he can’t be all twitterpatted around Aziraphale and have the stupid plan looming over his head like an anchor ready to bop him in the head and drag him underwater, drowning him and Aziraphale simultaneously.

He took in a few deep breaths to calm himself down, reached in his pocket and dug his phone out. As he slid his sunglasses back over his eyes and ignored the missed texts and calls from the hell spawn at Lucy’s he opened his calming app. He tapped and swiped for a few minutes, feeling himself relax more. This was relaxing, this activity was meant to be relaxing, lunch with a, colleague? No that was too informal, a friend? That seemed too intimate, but more fitting than bloody colleague, maybe a potential friend? Again that seemed to stupidly informal. Anthony’s eyes darted around at the other patrons of the establishment and wondered what they would think of Anthony and Aziraphale sitting together, looking in from the outside, he meant. Anthony smiled as he thought that the other people, looking in from the outside, could see them as a couple, as boyfriends out for a lunch together in the middle of a busy day. This thought distracted him into a menagerie of warmth spreading through his chest and thoughts flitting through his mind when Aziraphale surprised him popping up next to him suddenly.

“Shit!” Anthony exclaimed In a half-shriek as Aziraphale smiled down at him with twin jumbo mugs of hot chocolate on saucers in each hand. “So sorry to frighten you d-dear, I was just wanting to bring you your hot chocolate and not scare you by just popping across from you and yanking out of whatever lovely daydream you were having.” Aziraphale stuttered.

Anthony blushed as the thoughts he had been having flashed through his mind, especially with the sobriquet he used people would definitely be thinking that they were a couple, and that was not something that Anthony minded, his face a brilliant scarlet as he came to realize this. He took the hot chocolate Aziraphale held out to him in both hands, the mug it was in was enormous and wide like a small bowl with a handle. As Aziraphale slid into his seat in the couch side of the table Anthony marveled at the hot chocolate it was towering with whipped cream and chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings with a handful of mini marshmallows sprinkled on top.

“They weren’t joking when they said ‘Ultimate Hot Chocolate’ were they?” Anthony asked as he looked up to Aziraphale who was smirking.

“Oh no, they wouldn’t want to falsely advertise. It is quite good, a recipe passed down from the head chef’s great grandmother.” Aziraphale said bringing his warm mug up to his lips and demurely sipping at it.

Anthony looked at the hot chocolate and brought it to his lips and sipped at it, the rich chocolate, half melted marshmallows and chocolate shavings, with creamy whipped topping swirling around on his taste buds, wrapping him in a warm hug.

“Wow, this is brilliant.” Anthony exclaimed, wanting to drink more without burning his tongue.

“It is my favorite beverage from this establishment.” Aziraphale said with a grin.

Anthony flashed a smile at Aziraphale and they sipped in silence while they waited for their crêpes to arrive. Anthony noticed Aziraphale glancing at him, then quickly away, then back at him. Whenever he looked at him his face would soften, his eyes would light up, and his eyes would crinkle at the sides with his small smiles. Anthony felt a churning in his gut with each passing glance, each little smile, and each trace of blushing across his chubby cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to just slide in next to Aziraphale on the cough seating and sit beside him and enjoy this lunch right by his side instead of right across from him.  
Aziraphale felt a stirring in his chest when Anthony smiled at him, and he shyly glanced away, and then quickly back when he thought Anthony was not looking at him, he didn’t want to be obvious in his glances, didn’t want to frighten him away, not when he felt these feelings, and even if he didn’t feel these feelings, Anthony was a good person, and Aziraphale always wanted to associate with good people.

“Here you are gents, Mr. Aziraphale here are your crêpes,” The same waitress as before, Millie, Anthony could tell by her nametag, placed a couple of plates in front of Aziraphale, “And for you sir, your Belgian Chocolate, I added a bit more embellishments since Mr. Aziraphale said it was your first time here. Wanted to wow you into a second visit.” She said with a wink placing the plate of crêpes down in front of Anthony. He smiled as he saw what she meant by embellishments, little hearts and stars drawn in drizzled chocolate covered the edge of the plate and the crêpe itself had probably double the amount of chocolate drizzle and powdered sugar on top.

“Thank you, it looks quite delicious, and I promise that I will come here again.” Anthony chuckled looking up at Aziraphale from his plate, who was smiling, his blue eyes shining with mirth.

Millie walked away with the promise of coming back if they needed anything else, Anthony stole a glance at Aziraphale’s crêpes, as he did his eyebrows rose high, they looked really good too, he should have ordered more than what he had. Anthony looked closely at his crêpes and then back to Aziraphale’s, he was calculating if he would be able to order and eat more after he finished the one he had or if he would be done in, as he calculated he noticed a blush spreading across Aziraphale’s cheeks and across his nose, highlighting his freckles, he raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale inquisitively.

Aziraphale sighed heavily and brought his hands up to the table top and began fidgeting his hands together, not making eye contact he started, “I, shouldn’t have ordered so much, one order of crêpes should be enough to be filling for someone, and they put so many toppings on them that that alone would be filling for someone, and I shouldn’t be so greedy, it just leads to more of an increase in my...”

Anthony held up a hand to stop him, “Aziraphale, what you eat shouldn’t be policed by anyone, least of all by me, I was looking at your crêpes because they looked delicious and I was thinking of ordering more for myself but I wasn’t sure if the order I had would fill me up or not. I was thinking of eating my order and then ordering more anyway and just dealing with a stomach ache later on.”

Aziraphale was surprised at the gentleness of the tone Anthony was taking with him, even more surprised at the words he was saying, though what he was saying shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did.

“Oh.” His mouth stayed in a surprised twist as his blush faded and his hands stopped fidgeting.

After a beat of silence, and as Aziraphale’s demeanor began to relax Anthony chirped, “Can I ask you something?”

Aziraphale’s posture tensed back up slightly, making him sit up straighter, and his hands started to knot and unknot, “Of course.” He nodded at Anthony, not wanting to make eye contact, keeping his gaze at the table where one of Anthony’s slender hands rested.

“Do you enjoy food? Do you enjoy creating it? Do you enjoy the artistry of it? Do you enjoy eating it?” His tone in which he asked this, was, if possible, gentler than the one he had when he was explaining why he was looking at Aziraphale’s plate.

Aziraphale looked up, surprised by the question, his brown furrowed as he thought, he wasn’t sure how to answer this, it seemed like a trick question. He studied Anthony’s face to try and get a hint of a semblance of what he meant by his inquiry.

Anthony had a look of sincerity on his face, his head was slightly tilted to the side, and he was looking directly at Aziraphale, whether or not he was actually looking at Aziraphale was undetermined due to his sunglasses, but Aziraphale could feel Anthony’s gaze graze his face. His arms were somewhat crossed on the table in front of him and he was leaning a bit toward Aziraphale.

“I’m, I’m not sure what you’re wanting to hear, or what you’re meaning.” Aziraphale mumbled, his eyes now downcast looking at the table.

He could audibly hear Anthony gulp, “My meaning, is just me asking those questions, but what I am wanting to really say,” He paused, and stretched his arms out on the table, his hands delicately laying just slightly beyond what would be considered his space, his fingers curling and uncurling.

He gulped again, then said in just barely above a whisper, “I want to say that there is nothing wrong with enjoying food, and there’s nothing wrong with being fat, and I know, I can at least guess from when you’ve brought it up in conversation a few times, that you’ve heard that these things are bad, either from someone you know, or some arsehole on the street, and they’ve ingrained that in your head. They are wrong, quite ridiculously wrong. There is nothing wrong with either of those things, the world in general likes to say otherwise, but fuck the world! If it makes you happy, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters anyway. Not some bloody family member that doesn’t know their elbow from their arsehole, not some blighter git in the street, and not some wankstick on the telly talking about this epidemic or carbs or fad diets and whatnot. It’s all a load of bollocks.”

Anthony said all this in such a quick succession of words that he was left breathless after it all tumbled out. He hadn’t meant to unload all of those thoughts and comments onto Aziraphale, but he had been wanting to say them ever since the incident in the Bentley, he wanted Aziraphale to know that there was nothing wrong with him. He wanted to reach his hands further across the table and unknot Aziraphale’s nervous hands, and lace them with his own, he wanted to run his thumb along Aziraphale’s plump hand and let it reassure him that there was nothing wrong with him, nothing wrong at all.

The look on Aziraphale’s face gave Anthony a pang of panic, he wanted to jerk his gaze to the floor, but he didn’t want Aziraphale to think he was lying about what he said, and avoiding eye contact seemed to be read as a sign of dishonesty by some people’s standards. Anthony held his gaze to Aziraphale’s face, and kept his eyes on his plump face, his blue eyes that were downcast to his hands that were no longer fidgeting but resolved and still in a clenched together, his extra fold of flesh at his chin prominent with the downward expression, delicately creased at the curves, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes were exaggerating with the clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

Shit, Anthony had overstepped his boundaries, he had said too much, he misread the situation, shit, why did he keep doing these things? He tried to keep from outwardly groaning at himself so he wouldn’t make an idiot out of himself or make Aziraphale feel like shit with that too. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he keep tripping over everything he said around this man? Why did everything hurt too much or made him feel like his heart was going to explode?

“Do,” Aziraphale’s voice whispered softly, a quaver in the tones, he paused to clear his throat, “Do you really mean those things, or are you just saying them to be kind?” Aziraphale questioned looking up at Anthony’s face, a wary and doubtful look in his eyes.

“Do I look like the kind of person who says things just to be kind?” Anthony barked with nervous laughter.

Aziraphale smiled warily, “Yes you do.” He said gently.

Anthony scoffed feigning offense, “Do you dare impugn my honor?” He asked smartly.

Aziraphale chuckled, the dark clouds in his eyes dissolving into clear skies.

Anthony without thinking reached his hand across the table and gently touched Aziraphale’s hand with his fingertips, “I-I do mean them, Aziraphale, there’s nothing, nothing wrong with those things, and fuck all who says otherwise.” Anthony said, all mirth gone from his voice, all serious as he looked up at Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale, shocked at the touch, the intentional gentle touch, smiled carefully, “Th-thank you.” He stammered, a blush beginning to creep onto his face, as he looked up, searching Anthony’s face, and then glancing down at their hands, and then back.

Anthony didn’t realize that he had absentmindedly rubbing circles on Aziraphale’s knuckle with his thumb until Aziraphale had looked down at their hands together. Anthony felt a lightning bolt of shock go through him as he realized what he was doing, and what Aziraphale was letting him do without argument.

Anthony wanted to lean forward, wanted to knit their fingers together, wanted to…

His eyes went from their hands to Aziraphale’s face, and something moving outside the window caught his eye, and he felt a jolt of panic rack through him.

Bee and Danielle were outside walking along the sidewalk in front of the café, they weren’t looking inside yet, but they were walking slowly enough and deliberately enough that their eyes were bound to scan the inside of this building.

“Do-you-mind-if-I-sit-next-to-you-the-sun-is-shining-in-my-eyes-since-those-clouds-moved.” Anthony spat out, and before Aziraphale could respond Anthony quickly slid out from his chair and fluidly stepped over and sat next to Aziraphale taking the empty space to the left of him. He kept his face downward and moved as little as possible in the quick seating change.

“Oh, no, I suppose I don’t mind.” Aziraphale stuttered slightly.

Aziraphale stiffened as Anthony slouched a bit in the seat, he tried to nondescriptly bring his plate and hot chocolate over to his new spot. He watched as Anthony peeked over his shoulder out the window of the café and relaxed a bit in his posture, he turned to Aziraphale and smiled broadly, and Aziraphale felt his heart quiver.

Anthony turned his attention to the crêpes and smiled, “So what did you get? Your crêpes look delicious.”

Aziraphale grinned, “I ordered the Ferrero rocher crêpes, which have Nutella, Ferrero rocher, and whipped cream, I added strawberries to that one, and then I also ordered the smoked salmon and cream cheese crêpes.”

Anthony felt, and heard his stomach growl, “I don’t know about you, but I am starving.” He grabbed his silverware and smiled at Aziraphale.

“Oh I’m positively famished.” Aziraphale grabbed his own set of cutlery, they simultaneously began slicing up pieces of their crêpes and started to eat.

Anthony tried to contain his delight as the oozy Belgium chocolate danced over his taste buds, “this is delicious.” He growled taking another heaping forkful.

Aziraphale giggled as he delicately took a bite of his own crêpes, “They are scrumptious,” He agreed.

Anthony peeked at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye, he was being so neat and dainty with his bites, every third one he would dab at his lips with his napkin, and he noted, that a light delighted humming was coming from deep within his belly. When he heard Aziraphale humming Anthony felt a warmth spread through him, like a million stars decided to begin to rebirth and sizzle at that exact moment inside his ribcage.

Shit shit shit shit shit he thought, why me?

Aziraphale smiled at Anthony, and that was his answer.


	12. Ch. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a traipse through the farmer's market, this chapter got a bit away from me I'll admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the cheesiest pinefull thing I have ever written.  
> As Sodium said,   
> "The cheesiest  
> Pine scented cheddar  
> A forest with brie, if you will  
> Evergreens with havarti  
> Coniferous with gouda  
> Trees with swiss"  
> So be forewarned.

Ch. 12

After they finished their crepes, with Aziraphale insisting that he pay for the lunch outing, they stepped out of the café and Anthony yawned, “That was filling, but now I am so tired I could just curl up in a ball right here.”

Aziraphale chuckled, “I daresay I do feel the same way, perhaps we could walk around a bit? Look at the farmer’s market? Or walk around the park across the street? That way once we get back to the shop, we won’t be completely heavy-eyed.” He suggested shyly.

Anthony peered around the pathways around them, wanting to make sure that no one from Lucy’s was lurking around again, once he realized the coast was clear he nodded at Aziraphale’s suggestion.

“Perhaps the flower and produce market first? Since the truck is parked on the opposite side of the street, same as the park. Then if we still need some walking around, we could go there next.” Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, letting Anthony choose.

“Sounds good to me.” Anthony shrugged following in step with Aziraphale and heading toward the flower market a couple of residential spaces over.

They walked in a comfortable silence, Aziraphale noticed that even with his longer legs and faster gait that Anthony wasn’t passing him but instead staying at the same speed and almost same step as he was. Aziraphale smiled to himself when he came to this realization.

Once they arrived at the market Aziraphale skipped over the produce and went to the floral side of the bazaar.

“Not interested in any apples or oranges?” Anthony said with a lopsided grin.

“Well, it feels extremely disloyal to the family farm if I were to gather produce items from other establishments.” Aziraphale murmured glancing forlornly at the tables and booths of different colorful fruits and vegetables.

“C’mon then, if anyone asks, or sees us, it’s all for me, anything you find that you want, my treat.” Anthony pulled Aziraphale’s sleeve toward the produce before Aziraphale could make a peep in protest.

Anthony swiftly took Aziraphale over to all the fruit and vegetable stands, there were many stands with all sorts of items, they passed a honey booth, a homemade gourmet dog biscuit booth, jams, a craft booth, a booth of homemade cookies and breads, a booth of soaps and skincare items.

“Cheese, they have cheese here?” Aziraphale gasped in surprise, he wasn’t expecting there to be cheese, he only expected fruits and vegetables, not cheese or soaps.

“Do you like cheese?” Anthony asked with a saccharine expression on his face, a bit dazed as if he were thinking of other things before Aziraphale’s exclamation had brought him out of them.

“I quite enjoy cheeses actually, especially paired with a good wine.” Aziraphale admitted with a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Well then, let’s get you some good cheese to go with whatever wines you have.” Anthony led Aziraphale to the cheese row, there were many different booths, all from local farms in London.

“Brinkworth Dairy, Ahimsa Dairy, Wobbly Bottom Farms, my goodness, there are so many to choose from.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened at all the choices.

“How about Wobbly Bottom Farms first? They at least have a funny name.” Crowley stifled a giggle as they approached that booth.

“Hullo, I’m Neil, would you like a business card? Or a sample of some of our cheese?” A tall thin man with dark curly hair and spectacles stood at the booth, gesturing at both the stack of business cards and a platter of cheese cubes.

“I would daresay I would like both.” Aziraphale reached for a toothpick piercing an edge of a cube of cheese.

“Our cheeses are exclusively made of goat’s milk, and that is one of our signature cheeses at Wobbly Bottom Farms. It is our Hitchin Hard, it is a robust goat’s milk cheddar, matured for at least 12 months for a knock-out punch.” Neil recited, as if he had said this phrase several hundred times already today.

Anthony watched as Aziraphale sampled the little white cube of cheese, his lips curled into a smile as he saw the reaction on his face as the taste of the cheese danced over his tongue.

“Oh, why, it is such a sharp cheddar, and pungent, oh it would be absolutely delightful with a baguette.” Aziraphale moaned softly.

Anthony grinned as he silently held up a finger to Neil and he got a wedge of the Hitchin Hard wrapped up and in a little bag, paying silently. ‘What the hell.’ He thought and grabbed a business card and slipped it into the bag as well.

Aziraphale gushed to Neil about how wonderful the cheese was a few more minutes before they went to the next booth.

“Alright this one is Brinkworth Dairy Farms.” Anthony announced as they approached the next booth, when on the table was a cake. A cheese cake, a wedding cheese cake that must have weighed at least five kilograms.

“Wot is that?” Anthony dipped his sunglasses down his nose to stare at the monstrosity in front of them.

“Do you like that gents? We’re famous for it at Brinkworth, it’s our custom wedding cheese cake. Some people like these instead of the traditional ones from the bakers. We can provide a cheese for every tier of cake!” A bubbly gray curly haired woman exclaimed as Anthony and Aziraphale gazed in awe and horror at the four tiered wedding cheese cake in front of them.

“That is very, creative.” Aziraphale appreciatively smiled at the woman.

Anthony pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose as the woman began to talk about the wedding cheese cake.

“Each cake has a tier representing the traditional something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue! The something old is the Wiltshire Loaf, the something new is the Garlic and Pepper Soft Fresh Cheese, that tier is usually on the top tier because it is very soft, don’t want the cake collapsing on you now! The something borrowed is the Royal Bassett Blue cheese, which though it is slightly blue in color, it is the something borrowed in this cake because this cheese is borrowed from Royal Wootton Bassett. And last but not least is the something blue! Which in this case, is the Brinkworth Blue cheese! Now this cake is about seven kilograms, and it would serve eighty to a hundred people. How many guests will be there for your special day?”

She recited all the information on the wedding cheese cakes so quickly that at first Aziraphale and Anthony didn’t catch her question at the end. It wasn’t until there were several beats of silence that they realized she had asked them something.

“Ngk.” Anthony sputtered a bit and blushed a brilliant shade of crimson, his mind flashing to a what a wedding with Aziraphale would be like, he saw Aziraphale in an old-time suit and himself in a dark colored suit and a silken tie. He shook his head to get the image out, what was he thinking, he had only met this man last week and he was already daydreaming about a wedding?

“Oh.” Aziraphale blushed his own shade of pink and shyly looked at his hands which were clasping and unclasping at his middle. Thoughts of flowery bouquets and matching rings danced through his mind before he blinked several times.

“Er, ah, no, we, we aren’t…” He didn’t want to say that he and Anthony weren’t together, because they were, but they weren’t together in the way that the booth keeper was thinking.

“Ah, more of a traditional couple you are then I suppose? Well do not fret lovies, we also offer the types of cheese that make up the cheese cake that we sell in separate wedges and wheels, as well as a Soft Fresh Wiltshire Cream Cheese with a Garlic and Pepper coating. Would you like to sample any of those?” She asked offering a rustic round serving plate with a small cup of the cream cheese, small spoons, and sample pieces of bread to sample it on. As well as different sections labeled with the four types of cheese from the cheese cake.

“I wouldn’t mind trying that cream cheese, the others sound delectable as well, though I wouldn’t happen to suppose you have any pears to accompany it? Those I find have always been the best pairing for blue cheeses.” Aziraphale hesitantly reached for a slice of baguette and the small spoon to spread the cream cheese onto it.

“Oh I don’t lovie, so sorry.” The woman said with a little pout.

“No bother.” Aziraphale smiled and took a bite of the cream cheese spread baguette slice and closed his eyes and his face turned shifted into a happily content expression.

“Oh this is so delightfully scrumptious.” He offered Anthony his own slice of baguette with a spread of the cream cheese, Anthony, not wanting to hurt Aziraphale’s feelings, took the slice and tried it himself, he nodded in agreement that it was delicious, and as Aziraphale finished the slice he had slowly, enjoying every crumb, Anthony held up a finger to the woman behind the booth. She smiled and wrapped him up a container of the cream cheese.

“Thank you, so much dear lady, this has been a real pleasure.” Aziraphale waved as he and Anthony went to the next and last cheese booth in the row. Anthony looked at Aziraphale as they approached the booth, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through him as Aziraphale smiled and had a look of excitement on his face.

The next booth was for White Lake Cheese, Somerset Dairy, which had three plates laid out with sweet photographs of a small herd of sheep, goats, and cows by the corresponding plate to indicate what kind of animal produced the milk to make the cheese.

“My goodness! So many to choose from on your order forms.” Aziraphale’s eyes flitted over the cheese samples as well as the listing for other products that White Lake had available for purchasing.

“Jams, charcuterie, crackers, honey, goat cheese, sheep cheese, cow cheese, hard cheese, soft cheese... These sound so scrumptious! You wouldn’t happen to have any samples of the Red Wine and Drycut Blue Salami? Or the Cayenne Chili Jam would you?” Aziraphale looked hopefully at the short thin man with straw colored hair tending the booth.

“’Fraid not, all we have samples for are the cheeses, though you could always order some to be delivered if you want that.” The man spoke in a soft yet gravelly voice, sounding like he was whispering at the bottom of a well.

Aziraphale pouted slightly and smiled, “No bother at all dear fellow, now what do these samples happen to be?” He asked as he studied the three different platters on the booth’s table.

“Well here, this lot is some of the cheeses that we make from the goats, this one is Rachel, Tor, and a bit of White Hearth. Out of this selection we have two of our award winning cheeses, that’d be the Rachel and the Tor.” As the man talked about the cheese samples on the goat platter he pointed at each one.

“Try as many as you like.” He added to an indecisive Aziraphale’s delight.

Aziraphale grinned and reached for a sampling of each and slowly savored each bite. With each sample he chewed delicately and closed his eyes to fully immerse himself in the experience of trying something new.

Anthony felt his heart twist harder at the looks of pure sweetness crossing Aziraphale’s face, he was so immersed in how immersed Aziraphale was getting with trying the cheeses that his brain must have glitched because next thing he knew Aziraphale’s voice was going, “Anthony? Anthony?”

Anthony shook his head and blinked a few times, “Wot?” he asked turning his head to Aziraphale.

“I asked if you were ready to go back to the bakery dear.” Aziraphale’s face turning a bright shade of pink.

“Oh uh, yes, yes of course.” Anthony stuttered.

Once Aziraphale was out of earshot he swiveled his gaze to the man at the cheese booth, “I’ll take a wedge of whatever he liked.”

The man smiled warmly and rang Anthony up for three wedges of cheese and bid him a good day.

Anthony fast stepped to catch up with Aziraphale, as he did, he felt a hand clap on his shoulder firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes these are real dairy farms in London, and yes the one named Brinkworth Dairy Farms does have a wedding cheese cake.   
> Once I'm on a desktop I'll include a picture of it!


	13. Ch. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony has an anxiety attack but Aziraphale is there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the word fat is used as an insult here, but there is much sweetness later I promise you.  
> *there is a vivid description of a panic/anxiety attack basically the whole chapter. If you skip this one I promise you wont be missing any plot points.

Ch. 13

“Oi!” He yelped spinning around to see who was there.

“Better hush it up Crawly, before your fat little boyfriend hears you.” Hans growled at him holding him by the shirt; Laurent was close by looking past them to keep an eye on Aziraphale.

“What do you two want?” Anthony grumbled his shoulders slumping slightly. Things had been going so well.

“Just wanted to let you know that dad wanted to see you is all.” Hans growled, his dark eyes flitting across Anthony’s face.

“Since ya weren’t answering your phone, he wanted us to check up on you, make sure you were keeping your head where it’s supposed to be.” Laurent added sharply.

“Guys, I have everything under control, it’s only been a couple days since Uncle Stan even told me he wanted me to do this.” Anthony said fidgeting in place trying to keep from having a panic attack.

He could feel his heart racing, and his breathing quickening, his pulse skyrocketing. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to keep it together, to think of things that made him happy and calm, he couldn’t have a panic attack with these two they’d tell his uncle, then his uncle would question him. He also didn’t want Aziraphale to see him having a panic attack either because then he would try to find out what happened, which would lead to him having another panic attack over revealing his stupid mission. He took a slow breath in and a slow deep breath out.

“Crawly, don’t fuck this up, this is a tool for us to get back at those bloody Edens once and for all, besides just vandalizing their stuff, you are the tool for our glorious destiny.” Hans glowered as he admitted this to Anthony.

“Glorious, tool, right.” Anthony mumbled feeling lower than the dirt under his shoes.

“Now get going and move this damn mission along. The Baking Competition will be here sooner than you think, and don’t let that dim-witted baker figure out what you’re getting at or everything will be ruined.” Hans growled.

“Including you.” Laurent grumbled, his eyes flashing over Anthony’s shoulder, he nudged Hans and he gave Anthony a shove while releasing the fabric of his shirt. Anthony stumbled back as they retreated into the crowd. Anthony caught his balance by placing his hands on his knees and doubling over, breathing heavy ragged breaths, the plastic bag of the cheese he got for Aziraphale landing with a thud at his feet.

“Oh Anthony, I was wondering where you had gotten to, I didn’t see you next… Oh dear.” Aziraphale trailed off as he saw Anthony crouched down, his hands on his knees and breathing deep heaving breaths.

“Anthony, can you move? I can help you to the truck if you are able.” Aziraphale fretted, wanting to pick Anthony up and carry him to the truck so he could have a panic attack in private, and possibly help calm him down.

Anthony shook his head slowly from side to side, his breathing becoming even more haggard.

Aziraphale looked around for a moment and saw someone getting ready to leave their booth, he furrowed his brow and looked back at Anthony, “I will be right back.”

He hurried over to the matronly woman that was lowering a flap of her booth to cover the counter where her flowers were on display.

“Excuse me madam,” He called to her, approaching her with a nervous smile.

“Hello love, I’m about to close up to get a quick bite to eat, what can I do for you?” She asked with a sweet smile, her short curly red hair contrasting with her bright blue eyeshadow.

“Dear Lady, my name is Aziraphale, I was hoping I could take my friend into your booth for a moment of privacy while your booth is closed up? It is a health crisis.” He explained gesturing to Anthony who was only a few steps away and still breathing heavy.

“Of course dear, just don’t be robbing me while I’m away. Do you need help getting your friend into the booth?” She asked looking at Anthony worriedly.

“I should be fine, thank you Madame…?” He trailed off since he didn’t know her name.

“Tracy, I’m Madam Tracy, go get your friend inside Mr. Aziraphale, I’ll get him some water.” She dismissed as she went off to another booth to grab some water.

Aziraphale hurried back to Anthony and he tottered a moment.

“Anthony I’m going to help you into that empty booth, I’m going to help you stand and walk, may even carry you if I need to.” He attempted a joke.

Anthony huffed what was supposed to be a laugh, but what came out was a whining sound that made Aziraphale’s heart twist. Anthony took a deep breath and slowly pushed up from his knees to stand up fully, then looked at Aziraphale as he bit his lower lip.

“I’m going to grab your hand now Anthony, is that okay? You don’t have to speak, just nod yes or no.” Aziraphale murmured, his eyes wide and full of concern.

Anthony nodded almost imperceptivity, Aziraphale took his long slender hand in his own warm plump hand and tried to lead him to the empty booth, but Anthony’s feet did not want to move.

“Anthony, may I put an arm around your waist to help guide you?” Aziraphale asked carefully, not wanting to press Anthony into anything that would make his panic attack worse.

Anthony nodded again; he could feel the exact moment that Aziraphale’s arm snaked around his waist. The heavy feeling of warmth and safety was something that he couldn’t recall ever feeling before and it seemed to breathe more life into him.

He carefully took small steps along with Aziraphale’s guiding path, Aziraphale grabbing the bag at his feet and then guiding Anthony until they reached the empty booth. Aziraphale let go of Anthony’s hand to hold up the flap to the booth and let Anthony go in without having to fuss with it. Anthony ducked slightly to enter the booth, Aziraphale’s arm still wrapped softly around his bony frame.

Aziraphale led Anthony to a small bench chair in the booth and helped him sit down carefully on it, then sat next to him gingerly.

“There now, this will help, no crowd, Madam Tracy is getting some water for you, is there anything I can do to help make you feel more grounded?” Aziraphale whispered gently from beside him.

Anthony shook his head no and wrapped his arms around his waist hugging himself, trying to keep all his broken pieces together, keep them from spilling out everywhere even more so than he had outside the booth.

“Would you like your phone to use your calming application? Or perhaps some music? I remember you said before how it would sometimes help you, I’m afraid your medicine is still in the Bentley if I’m not mistaken.” Aziraphale was rambling, he knew he was rambling, but he wanted to help and the silence from Anthony was somewhat deafening and making him worry. Not that he didn’t know that anxiety attacks could be this way, he had many of his own, it seems much more worrisome when someone else is going through it and not yourself.

Anthony nodded a bit as he rocked back and forth in quick succession, arms still wrapped around his waist, his red hair swaying back and forth with each movement he was doing.

“Here you go dears, do stay as long as you need to.” Madam Tracy popped back in the booth for a moment with a bottle of cold water and handed it to Aziraphale.

“Thank you, dear lady.” He said with a weak smile, his eyes glistening with worry.

Madame Tracy nodded at the pair, making a concerned face, then left to give them more privacy.

Aziraphale offered the water bottle to Anthony who ignored it, he placed it at their feet momentarily next to the sack.

Anthony was internally damming himself; how could he act like this? He had a grip, he lost it, he needed to get a grip, GET A FUCKING GRIP! He angrily snarled at himself, this was fucking embarrassing, not only was he having a panic attack about those two clod cousins of his, but now he was even worse off and having a panic attack in front of Aziraphale, who was most likely brushing him off as a burden and an annoyance now. He could feel his body rocking back and forth in quick succession trying to find a balance between manic and panic and normal.

Aziraphale went to grab Anthony’s phone to play his music on, then he realized that Anthony’s phone was in his pocket, and he was not about to ask him if he could reach a hand in to said pocket to grab it. Instead he took his flip phone out of his own pocket and opened one of the few apps he did have that played music.

“My cellular device may not do much, but it can play some music, anything in particular you would like to hear dear?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together in concern.

Anthony shook his head no in a quick jerking movement, Aziraphale thumbed his up and down keys until he found something that Anthony may enjoy in the small music collection on the app of his phone, he smiled as a light soothing singer’s voice crooned through the speaker of the phone.

“Is this the real life?  
Is this just fantasy?  
Caught in a landslide,  
No escape from reality.”

Anthony was pleasantly surprised at the song Aziraphale chose to play, his rocking back and forth slowed, and turned to a small sway from side to side with each note played and each word sung from Freddie Mercury’s lips. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, his breathing slowing, calming. His head was beginning to clear and his thoughts weren’t as blurry and staticky as they had been. He let his shoulders drop from his ears and his back relax like a noodle flung against the cupboard door.

Aziraphale gently placed his phone on the bench next to him and smiled at the soothing lyrics and the nice melody playing through his phone, he glanced at Anthony who was swaying with the song and smiling slightly. His breathing had slowed down a bit and his posture wasn’t so rigidly bent in desperation. Aziraphale’s own posture relaxed somewhat, seeing Anthony calmer made him more tranquil as well. He smiled gently as he gazed at Anthony, he could feel the tension diminishing from his shoulders, coming off of him in waves as the music swelled and rolled over him.

“Open your eyes,  
Look up to the skies and see,  
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,  
Because I'm easy come, easy go,  
Little high, little low,  
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes quietly, and as he did so he felt Anthony lean into him the slightest bit. His eyes flashed open and he saw Anthony had gravitated closer to him, his head tilted but still seemed to be in a trance.

Without thinking Aziraphale raised his arm up and placed the palm of his hand on Anthony’s upper back and began to lightly rub it in little circles. He felt a thrumming under his hand as Anthony began to slightly hum along with the music, the sound so moderate that Aziraphale could barely hear it, but he could feel it under his touch.

Anthony felt a large solid palm touch his back and it emitted such a warmth that all the other tension that Anthony was feeling, all the leftover panic, all the worry, melted away. His lips gently curved into a small smile and he felt his rail thin body taking over and leaning into Aziraphale, the warmth that rolled off of his body was heavenly, he felt like he was touching, close to being wrapped in a blanket of clouds and sun rays. All malevolent feelings were melting away from him, and his chest was filling with the sun rays that Aziraphale was giving him by the gentlest touches.

“Mama, just killed a man,  
Put a gun against his head,  
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead”

“Oh! Oh dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed in disbelief with a small jump, his eyes opening in shock.  
He reached for the phone as Anthony sat up, a smile cracking on his face as Aziraphale snapped the flip phone shut to silence the offending lyrics.

“Really, such dreadful things in this popular bebop music, it was such a soothing melody! Then it goes into that! We were wanting something calm and revering, not something about murder and guns!” He yelped spinning to look back at Anthony his eyes bewildered, scared that the music choice had caused a reverse of the calming experience that was supposed to be occurring.

Anthony was smiling and giggling, almost out laughing at this episode of musical ineptitude that Aziraphale was exhibiting.

“Dear I am so sorry!” Aziraphale flustered turning himself toward Anthony.

A slow smile spread across Anthony’s face as he leaned back into Aziraphale.

“S okay, I like Queen, and that song is one of my favorites of theirs.” He rumbled; his voice aimed at Aziraphale’s soft chest.

“Oh, well then in that case.” Aziraphale murmured, reaching for his phone again.

He grabbed it with one hand and flipped it open to turn the same song back on.

As the lyrics morphed from ballad to staccato to opera Aziraphale glanced at Anthony from the corner of his eye, he was smiling now, he could feel under his hand that he was humming the lyrics along with the music, every word. He could see the edges of his mouth curling into a smile, the tension slowly leaving his body the longer the song went on.

Anthony hummed along, thrumming with the thrill that Aziraphale was still rubbing small circles onto his back.

Once the last notes of the song faltered from the little flip phone’s speaker Anthony sat up, no longer leaning into Aziraphale, and he felt Aziraphale’s hand drop from where he had been rubbing on Anthony’s back.

Wordlessly Aziraphale handed Anthony the water bottle that Madame Tracy had brought them. Silently Anthony took the bottle and twisted the top off and downed the cool water that was under the condensation covered plastic. 

Once he finished drinking the water, he turned to look at Aziraphale who was looking at him carefully, gently, full of concern and care in his eyes.

“Thank you Aziraphale.” His gravelly deep tone of thanks reverberated in Aziraphale’s ears.

“It’s no trouble at all.” Aziraphale said, trying to make light of the thanks, his cheeks blooming in twin shades of peony pink.

“No,” Anthony paused touching a hand to Aziraphale’s wrist. “I know it can be a lot of trouble, and, it means a lot that you got me out of that crowded area and helped me until the episode passed. Thank you.” Anthony brought his gaze up to look at Aziraphale as he unconsciously rubbed his pulse point with his thumb.

Anthony wanted nothing more than to cup Aziraphale’s plump cheeks in his hands and touch his forehead to his, to maybe even kiss him, the feelings of warmth flashing through him from his closeness, from his touch, made him feel like electricity was sparking inside of him.

“It, it was my pleasure.” Aziraphale said raising his gaze to meet Anthony’s his blue eyes shining.

Anthony gave him a weak smile, and before the urge to kiss his plump lips overtook him his gaze flashed around the booth, the surroundings of where they had been the last, however long his panic attack lasted, finally seeping into him.

“Oh, wow.” He breathed.

Aziraphale looked up and took in all the flowers surrounding them, buckets of blue hydrangeas, yellow Peruvian lilies, purple pansies, red roses, so many different types of flowers surrounded them. Along the tabletop edge of the booth, and across the top border of the fixture were small twinkling fairy lights, pale white in color, but adding a shine to the booth that enhanced the experience of the flowers.

“Oh, this is heavenly, to be surrounded in such beauty,” Aziraphale whispered, his eyes finally taking in the totality of the booth.

Anthony’s eyes flitted from the flowers to Aziraphale’s face, his blue eyes full of grace and wonder, his lips pulled in a smile, making the dimples in his cheeks show, his sweet double chin apparent, his eyes sparkle.

“I know.” Anthony whispered softly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some soft stuff before the angst fan hits. There is a little angst at the end but not as much as what is coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for anxious behavior/panic attack at the end.  
> Also use of anxiety medication, which I personally use when I need it.
> 
> There's also some Italian language, and if I mess up the translation I'm sorry! Bottom notes for translations.

Ch. 14

After they gathered themselves together and slowly made their way back to the bakery, by the time they arrived it was closer to closing time, much later than they had meant to stay out. As they walked through the back door of the bakery Anthony felt so guilt ridden that he wanted to curl up in a ball and hide under the sink with the rubbish bin.

“I’ll just close up early today, no fuss.” Aziraphale swished his hand in the air as if it were no big deal that he was losing a total of more than half of a business day of revenue in total from the day’s events.

“Ugh, ‘m so sorry ‘Ziraphale, it’s my fault you lost half the day, I’m just so.” Anthony started in a sad voice, turning angry and regretful when he started talking about himself.

“No, no don’t do that, you are not whatever you were about to say. Now, you go home and rest up, of course if you’d like to return tomorrow and taste test or apprentice or whatever we choose to call it, I’ll be opening the shop about the same time as today. But if you do need rest, I insist upon it, and,” Aziraphale paused and then took a breath and said the rest in a fast sentence so he wouldn’t chicken out in saying it.

“I also insist upon you taking my mobile number in case you need something, and assistance is needed, anything at all, you call me, and I can come assist you as needed.” Aziraphale whipped out his flip phone and opened it up, with his index finger he found the appropriate place to enter a new contact.

Anthony chuckled at the stern look on Aziraphale’s face, “Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up in defeat and then rattled off his number for Aziraphale.

“Let me get your number then too so I can call if I’ve fallen and can’t get up.” He said with a smirk.

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow at him and then rattled off his own number.

“Right then, I’ll head out then I guess, oh these, these are for you.” Anthony held out the bag from the farmer’s market.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you.” Aziraphale smiled, touched, and took the bag from Anthony’s grasp, his plump fingers brushed across Anthony’s spindly ones and a warm electric shock went through his system.

“Oh.” He murmured in surprise.

Anthony felt the same warm electric shock make its way up from his fingertips and to his heart.

“Oh,” He echoed Aziraphale’s statement in the same amazed murmured tone.

Aziraphale smiled and let the bag fall at his side, “Well, you go along, and get home, and get some rest, and please do not hesitate to call me if you need anything.” He led Anthony back to the door and opened it for him.

“I will, promise.” Anthony hesitated to leave, mainly because he wanted to spend more time with Aziraphale, but he didn’t want to freak him out by saying so. He nodded a farewell and headed to the Bentley with his hands in his pockets.

Once he was safely in the Bentley and driving away into the late evening, Aziraphale closed the back door and went back inside the bakery, he sighed and leaned against the door with a smile on his face.

He made sure all of the ovens were off and that all the baked goods were stored properly, then he turned off the lights and went upstairs to his flat, clutching the bag in his hand as he walked up the stairs.

Aziraphale placed the bag gingerly in his refrigerator and then went to clean up for the evening, as he navigated around the various books around his flat, on coffee tables, on the kitchenette counter, stacked next to the couch, in stacks along the wall, on the shelves that were packed full sideways as well as vertically, as he walked he grazed his fingers over the covers of the books on top of the stacks, almost as if he were taking attendance that yes they were still present and accounted for, and that they hadn’t disappeared in the day while he was in the bakery.

He changed out of his day clothes and put on his pair of pale periwinkle pajamas that he owned, they were faded and soft and perfect for an evening in, and he also put on a matching set of slippers and robe, both in the same shade of light brown, and both fuzzy, soft, and warm.

He headed from the bedroom to the kitchenette and took the bag of cheese out of the fridge, and began to unload it, putting them gingerly inside, nestled away for later.

He was delighted to see that the wedges were each a type of cheese that he had enjoyed at the farmers market, he mentally catalogued them so he could later purchase a wine and fruit accompaniment and possibly invite Anthony to partake in the activity as well. He reached for the last wrapping of cheese and he was surprised to find the White Heart goat’s cheese from White Lake Dairy Farm. He felt himself blushing deeply as he looked at the heart shaped block of cheese. Was there a deeper meaning? Did Anthony buy him the White Heart for a reason? Was it an indication that Anthony was having the same warm feelings for him that he was having for Anthony? Aziraphale pondered these thoughts as he gently placed the cheese in the fridge and closed the door. He made his way to the couch in the living room, grabbing a tin of biscuits with pink icing on the way.

Aziraphale nestled himself onto a corner of the couch, tucking one leg under himself as he sat down, and leaned onto the plush fabric arm rest. He placed the tin of biscuits on the seat cushion next to him, and then grabbed the book that he was most recently reading off of the arm of the couch where he had left it open, facedown, his reading glasses balanced precariously next to it which he slid onto his face.

Just as he was settling in, letting all the softness of the couch consume him, he heard his mobile phone ring across the room in the kitchenette where he had plugged it in to charge on the counter by the toaster. His brow furrowed wondering who would be calling him this late in the evening, Gabriel usually didn’t call at this hour, nor did his other family members. He then suddenly remembered that he had given his mobile number to Anthony to call him If he needed anything. Aziraphale scooted off the couch and went to the kitchenette and looked at the flip phone, the little screen on top that gave the inkling of who was calling spelled out Anthony’s name in small light up letters against the black background.

Aziraphale felt his heart began to race as he opened his phone and held it to his ear.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice quavering slightly as if he was unsure of himself, or unsure of the intentions of Anthony calling him.

“Hey Aziraphale, it’s me, Anthony, I er, wanted to let you know I made it home alright, I know you were worried when I left and I didn’t want you worrying all night just over me.” Aziraphale chuckled with Anthony, who had lost his own quiver in his voice as he spoke,

“Well I’m glad you made it home safely, relieved actually, I was about to call the police to do a wellness check.” Aziraphale chuckled, and Anthony laughed heartily.

“Really though, thank, thank you for today, for all of it. The crepes, the farmer’s market, and especially for helping me get a grip when I was having that anxiety attack. It really, it really means a lot.” Anthony stammered out over the other end of the line.

“It was really my pleasure, and no trouble at all.” The warmth coming through Aziraphale’s voice to Anthony’s receiving ear made Anthony tremble slightly.

“Well, still, just wanted to thank you again.” Anthony murmured into the receiver of his touch cell phone, turning sharply as he paced along his flat as he talked on the phone, back and forth, back and forth. He could feel Aziraphale smile at that last remark he made, which made him pause as he smiled as well.

“Are you, planning a nice relaxing evening then, to try and fix such a rough afternoon?” Aziraphale tentatively asked Anthony as he settled himself back onto the couch, leaning into the plush cushions.

Anthony nearly tripped over his feet as he paced further, surprised at the continuing conversation. He figured Aziraphale would be done talking with him once he was thanked.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m gonna tend to my house plants, maybe play some music for them and then rest up in bed. Gotta wake up early to get to this new job I’m working, the department head is a strict one, may bring out a billy club and air horn if I am late even a second.” Anthony smirked, waiting to see if Aziraphale took the bait.

Aziraphale’s laugh giggled over the line, Anthony could picture his face, his stance as he listened to the tinkling bells that were that giggle. How Aziraphale’s face would blush slightly, his freckles standing out more against the pink tones, The apples of his cheeks glowing and plump like the sweet fruit he takes such care in preparing, how his giggle came from deep within his large plush belly, which with each exhale of laugher would cause it to bounce slightly. Anthony smiled, his chest warming, his stomach winding in a up in a knotted spiral, he heard Aziraphale take a breath before responding.

“I was just getting cozy with a book to read, I haven’t touched it all weekend and since I have a bit more time than usual I was going to hunker down and try to make a dent in it before cataloguing it into my book repertoire.” The excitement tinging Aziraphale’s voice made Anthony smile wider.

“What book are you reading?” Anthony asked walking over to the couch in his flat and sitting on the edge of the cushion, resting his elbows on his knees and balancing the phone to his ear.

“Canzoniere et Trionfi by Francesco Petrarca. A second edition collection of poetry in Italian.” He heard Aziraphale sigh as he talked about the book.

“You speak Italian? How am I not surprised by this?” Anthony grinned as Aziraphale chuckled into the phone.

“Say something in Italian then, show off your skills.” Anthony barked a laugh.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and said, “Oh bellissimo uomo, non riesco a credere a quanto sono già innamorato di te.”* In such a tremulous sotto voice that Anthony felt his heart nearly explode out of his chest.

“Wh-what does that mean exactly?” Anthony stammered.

Aziraphale giggled, “You’ll just have to wait and be surprised.”

Anthony groaned, “’s not nice to torment people Aziraphale.” He grumbled running a hand through his hair.

“Tu lo chiami tormentoso, io lo chiamo, flirtare misteriosamente.”** Aziraphale laughed, his Italian sounding flawless to Anthony, who of course couldn’t tell if it was flawless or not.

“Alright, alright, keep it to English now, is the poetry any good? Or is it some of the dreary stuff?” Anthony asked a smile curling his lips.

“Well, the dramas are a bit dreary, but they are rather lovely as a collection.” Aziraphale explained, happy to have someone to discuss his book with.

“I’ve always liked the funny ones. Ya know like, ‘A Wonderful Bird is the Pelican by Dixon Lanier Merritt.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one, do you by chance remember the verses?” Aziraphale sounding puzzled asked as he tried to remember if he had heard that one before at all.

“A funny old bird is a pelican. His beak can hold more than his belican. Food for a week, He can hold in his beak, But I don't know how the helican.” Anthony recited, barely containing himself before dissolving into a peal of laughter.

“Oh, really now, that would hardly be considered poetry, possibly a limerick.” Aziraphale scoffed in a huffy voice.

“Ah c’mon, limericks are a form of poetry.” Anthony argued with a laugh.

“Well I suppose technically it is a form of poetry, but hardly something someone thinks of first thing when it comes to mind.” Aziraphale sniffed.

Anthony roared with laughter, leaning onto the back of the couch, sinking into the cushion there.

“Do you collect anything else besides rare books?” Anthony asked as he adjusted himself, more relaxed against the couch, he reached for the little blanket that he kept on the back and tossed it over his legs, it was a stupid question, but he really didn’t want to stop talking with Aziraphale.

“Not really, books mostly, though I do have a nice assortment of bowties that I wear on special occasions, all of them a different style of tartan.” Aziraphale grimaced at the omission, his family often made fun of the bowties he wore to the family dinners, or any other time when he wasn’t doing anything with work, he didn’t want to ruin his nice clothes, those were nice antiques as well.

“Tartan eh? And bowties not regular ties?” Anthony clucked.

“Bowties are, what are the kids saying now, oh, bowties are on fleek.” Aziraphale enunciated with a cocked eyebrow.

Anthony’s loud burst of laughter bellowed over the phone line, “On fleek eh? How about cool? Bowties are cool. That’s a little less ridiculous sounding.” Anthony brayed.

Aziraphale tittered along with Anthony, “I do also have my grandfather’s old clothes, I always admired them growing up and couldn’t bear the thought of my uncles and cousins throwing them away after he passed. I snuck them all out of the rubbish bin and brought them to my room, now that I’m older and can fit them I wear them for special occasions. Those are somewhat antiques that I own also, help me keep pieces of him here you know? Though it is old fashioned and silly I know.” Aziraphale brushed his own comments off with a wave of his hand, though Anthony couldn’t see.

“No, it’s not silly, I do things to try and keep my mum around too though she is gone.” Anthony quickly defended Aziraphale’s old fashioned clothes that he had never seen but was sure were the epitome of grace and comfort for him.

Aziraphale smiled over the phone so much that Anthony could practically feel it beaming to him over the phone line, travelling through the molecules and atoms that connected them. Anthony smiled and then his mouth opened wide in a yawn. He brought his legs up onto the couch and stretched out, leaning against one of the throw pillows.

After a second yawn from Anthony and a couple beats of silence Aziraphale asked tentatively, “Are you still there Anthony?”

“’M yeah, ‘m still here, sorry I’m getting a little sleepy, nothing like an anxiety attack to wear you out.” Anthony mumbled.

“Oh, perhaps I should let you go then, to get some rest.” Aziraphale stammered, he didn’t want to be a bother to Anthony at all.

“No, no, you’re okay,” Anthony paused to yawn, “Wot, wot is your favorite poem in that book of yours?” He murmured his eyes feeling heavy lidded.

“Would, would you like me to read it to you?” Aziraphale timidly asked, his voice lowering an octave as if he were whispering a secret to someone.

“Oh, that’d, that’d be nice.” Anthony replied in a low voice.

Aziraphale smiled, “Just a moment, let me find it.” He said as he grabbed the book with his free hand and thumbed through it gingerly, careful not to rip or tear any of the delicate antique pages.

“Ah here we go, Sonnet Six,” Aziraphale cleared his throat and read softly,

“Una volta vidi sulla terra grazie celesti, E le bellezze celesti scarsamente conosciute dai mortali, La cui memoria non produce né gioia né dolore da soli, Ma tutto il resto nelle nuvole e nei sogni si cancella. Ho visto come le lacrime avevano lasciato le loro stanche trace, Dentro quegli occhi che una volta che il sole splendeva, Ho sentito quelle labbra, in un gemito basso e lamentoso, Respira parole per smuovere le montagne dai loro luoghi. Amore, saggezza, coraggio, tenerezza e verità, Realizzati nelle loro tensioni da lutto più alte e care, Che mai ha tessuto suoni morbidi per orecchio mortale; E il paradiso sembrava ascoltare con tanta tristeza, Le stesse foglie sui rami per lenire Tale dolcezza riempiva l'atmosfera beata.”***

As Anthony listened to Aziraphale’s voice speaking in Italian softly in his ear, he felt the most peaceful that he could ever remember being. He felt like all his senses were wrapped in a big soft sweater after he had been left outside to get hypothermia. He felt like he was enveloped in swirls of clouds and stars, and was gently floating through the atmosphere, like a leaf in the wind. Like a feather, set adrift in the breeze by a slight gust. He felt so wrapped up in gentleness that he unknowingly started to drift off to sleep.

Once Aziraphale finished the poem he waited a moment to see how Anthony enjoyed it, after a few beats of no words being spoken, but gentle sighs he realized that Anthony had fallen asleep. Aziraphale chuckled and whispered, “I didn’t know Italian poetry was boring enough to make you fall asleep dear, I do hope you enjoyed it rather than wish I wasn’t droning the entire time.”

With still no words spoken on Anthony’s end, just continuing gentle sighs and slight snores, Aziraphale smiled, “Since you are sleeping I should let you go, but even the sounds of your sweet gentle sighs are enough to keep me on my mobile.”

Still no response, no change in breathing, no hitch in anything to make Aziraphale suspect that Anthony was awake even in the slightest. Anthony heard the breathing on the other end of the line, but not hearing Aziraphale speak, he was about to say something to let Aziraphale know he was still there, but he hesitated as he heard Aziraphale stat to whisper.

“I have a small secret that has been blooming in my heart since I first saw you dear one, and since you’re sleeping, maybe I can gather the courage to speak it aloud, at least just this once.” Aziraphale murmured into the ancient flip phone.

Anthony blinked a couple of times, helping him become less sleepy, he wiggled a bit on the couch to get in a more comfortable spot, to hopefully fall asleep again.

With no sounds of stirring from the other side of the phone line, Aziraphale took a deep breath and sighed. Anthony heard his deep sigh on the other end of the line, and it drew him further from his slumber.

Aziraphale smiled to himself and whispered, “I hesitate to say, but, if I don’t speak it aloud soon I may be fit to bursting,” Anthony cocked an eyebrow, he had no idea what Aziraphale was about to say, but he may never hear it again so he had better pay attention.

Aziraphale took in another deep breath and with a tender sigh, “I believe I fell for you the moment I first saw you, and I’m quite certain that I’m falling in love with you.”

His heart caught in his chest at the confession, he was thankful that Anthony was asleep right this moment as he spoke the words aloud for the first time to someone other than himself. Granted the person he spoke the words to was deeply asleep, but he still counted it a victory that he was able to say them aloud. All he could hear on the other end of the phone was a steady breathing, Anthony must have fallen into a deeper sleep because the breaths were deeper, a more forceful small sigh.

Anthony sat straight up on the couch and tried hard not to hyperventilate, as well as tried hard not to alert Aziraphale that he had heard his confession. Anthony felt as if someone had stabbed him between the ribs right into his heart with a frigid ice pick.

“Goodnight dear heart, I hope I get to see you tomorrow, I’m sure that I will dream of you, and I hope, that maybe, you will dream of me as well.” Aziraphale crooned over the phone to Anthony, he took the mobile away from his ear and closed the flip phone. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face, even if Anthony had been sleeping when he had confessed, he was still able to say the words aloud. A huge weight had been lifted, and the sky didn’t fall. He didn’t get cast down into a fiery pit the second the words slipped from his lips, and he didn’t internally combust. At least not yet. He looked at the time and realized he would only have a few hours of sleep before he had to go downstairs and work on today’s inventory. He placed his book gently on the arm of the couch, placed his reading glasses on the coffee table in front of him, and made his way to his bed.

Anthony heard the gently click as Aziraphale hung up the line and he pulled his knees up to his chest and gently rocked back and forth. Aziraphale’s confession racking through him on repeat, making him feel a combination of euphoric, and utter despair.

Anthony clambered from the couch and hurried to his kitchen counter where he kept his medications, and he popped two of his anxiety medications in his mouth and swallowed them before they dissolved, before he dissolved.

As he waited for the hydroxyzine to take effect, he tried to dwell on the happy euphoria he was feeling. Aziraphale was falling in love with him, just as he was falling in love with Aziraphale. He smiled broadly, his cheeks practically hurting with how wide his smile was. He wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed himself in a tightly and quickly spun around giddily, he couldn’t remember ever feeling a joy like this before. He felt so elated that if he had jumped out the high window of his flat, he would have been able to fly over to SoHo to see Aziraphale. He felt like an atomic bombed wrapped in silken feathers, explosive and light all at the same time.

His thoughts screeched to a halt as he accidently spun into a corner of the couch and hit his foot. Yelping a curse, he dropped to the floor, the pain from his foot brought him back down to earth just as easily as an increase in gravity did.

He sat on the floor clutching his foot, and realized, Aziraphale was falling in love with him, as much as he was falling in love with Aziraphale, and that was the worst news he could have. He flashbacked to the farmer’s market, his cousin’s threats of telling their father, his uncle menacingly warning him that if he didn’t do this task, he wouldn’t have anything.

Anthony drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in his knobby knees, as a sob racked through him.

This was bad, Aziraphale falling in love with him was not part of the plan, not part of what he was supposed to do, not part of his plan. He could pine and fall as far as he wanted, he knew the outcome wouldn’t end with them together, Aziraphale wouldn’t be hurt, but for Aziraphale to fall, to pine, to dream, to love… That would break his heart, both of their hearts, especially if Aziraphale found out why Anthony had started helping him in the bakery in the first place, why he had been there in the first place.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck!” Anthony cried into his knees, pounding them with his fists, wanting to take it back, take it all back, this stupid mission, his stupid agreeance to it, being in his uncle’s stupid debts because he was too stupid to figure things out on his own. The sobs came from deep in his narrow chest, from down in his belly, from the very bottom of his core.

He took a deep breath and then got up off the floor, he had to figure this out. Figure out a way to not hurt Aziraphale, to keep him away from his uncle and his meddling cousins.

He had to protect him, and if that meant staying away from him, then he would have to do that, but that would also be directly subordinating his uncle’s orders.

He either had to fulfill the orders and hurt Aziraphale, deny the orders and be homeless under a bridge, possibly not hurting Aziraphale that way, but not having anywhere to work or live. He could try and keep his feelings for Aziraphale hidden from the glorious man, but he was about half a nervous wreck away from spilling his guts out to him as well about how much he was in love with him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Oh you beautiful man, I can't believe how smitten I am with you already
> 
> **You call it tormenting, I call it, flirting mysteriously.
> 
> ***I once beheld on earth celestial graces
> 
> And heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known,
> 
> Whose memory yields nor joy nor grief alone,
> 
> But all things else in cloud and dreams effaces.
> 
> I saw how tears had left their weary traces
> 
> Within those eyes that once the sun outshone,
> 
> I heard those lips, in low and plaintive moan,
> 
> Breathe words to stir the mountains from their places.
> 
> Love, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth
> 
> Made in their mourning strains more high and dear
> 
> Than ever wove soft sounds for mortal ear;
> 
> And heaven seemed listening in such saddest truth
> 
> The very leaves upon the bough to soothe,
> 
> Such sweetness filled the blissful atmosphere.


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amthony starts to head to A Slice of Heaven, when he has an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh warning, douchey family member treating anthony like crap, spewing mean hateful words to him, gaslighting, verbal abuse, threatening.  
> Just angst all over this chapter. I'm sorry!  
> It ends on a slightly brighter note.  
> But still, angst.

Ch. 15

Anthony woke up in the early morning slumped against his couch, he had fallen asleep sitting on the floor leaning against it last night.

He groaned as he stood up, this did not do anything to help his back keep from being in knots, and he migrated to his bed where he watched old vines that he had seen a thousand times until he finally fell asleep.

Too soon his alarm went off to wake him up to go to A Slice of Heaven, he rolled out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror and groaned at his reflection, dark circles under his eyes, his hair looked unkempt and like he had lost a fight with a tumbleweed.

He hopped in the shower to see if that would help him tame his hair, or even help make him look less like a haunted scarecrow.

As he showered and lathered his hair, he remembered the precious words that Aziraphale had spoken to him last night, and he felt equal parts joy and pain. He couldn’t let Aziraphale find out about the task that his uncle had sent him on, and he also had to come to terms with how he felt about Aziraphale also, it wasn’t fair to him that Anthony hadn’t responded to his admittance of love last night. To be fair Aziraphale didn’t know that Anthony had heard it, he thought Anthony was sleeping.  
Anthony would test the waters at the bakery today to see how Aziraphale acted around him, if Aziraphale seemed to be close to really admitting his feelings to him when he knew that Anthony was awake, maybe by then Anthony wouldn’t feel so guilty about loving him back.

Anthony raked a comb through his hair before throwing it up in a ponytail and then threw on a black long-sleeved thin sweater and jeans, put his eye drops in his eyes and went to head to the bakery.

As he walked through the living area and to the plants, he felt like something was wrong, something was off, but he couldn’t see anything out of place, more that the energy of his flat was different. He narrowed his eyes as he looked around the flat, not noticing anything out of place he wondered if it was just his anxiety manifesting itself into a palpable feeling. He grabbed the last zeppole out of the pink bag that he had and filled his plant mister up with some nice cool tap water with some nutrients mixed in, they’d like that.

He headed toward the plant room, and nearly dropped his mister when he saw his Uncle Stan standing there looking at the plants critically, fingering the fronds on Priscilla with a disgusted look on his face.

“M-morning Uncle, w-what brings you in?” Anthony asked shakily trying to stifle his nerves.

His uncle looked at him, his lip curled up in disgust as he derided, “I spoke with your cousins yesterday.” Anthony felt like icicles had just stabbed him in the throat as it grew tight, he had to think quickly, and keep his demeanor calm.

“Yeah I wondered if they woulda told you, wasn’t really a big deal, but ya know, family and all, haven’t seen you all since last week.” Anthony admitted with a chuckle, trying to keep his anxiety at bay, though it was arching up his shoulders and crawling down his arms.

“First, I hear that Bee and Danielle saw you at some restaurant, a creperie?” Stan’s voice didn’t change in octave, remained dark and threatening, he turned slightly more toward Anthony with intent in his movements, like a leopard stalking an antelope in the tall grass.

“Yeah, it was late, and it was time for lunch, so I figured why not? Have to eat something.” Anthony admitted nonchalantly with a shrug.

“With that, man?” his uncle seemed to sputter a bit at the accusation he was throwing.

“Yeah, he was, wot’d he say, peckish, and wanted to eat and he suggested the creperie. I assumed it would rouse suspicion if I declined.” Anthony choked out, not wanting to divulge too much information, and not wanting to get caught in any lies, or make any attention be put on Aziraphale.

“Hm, Secondly, Hans and Laurent said that they ran into you at the Farmer’s Market as well?” His uncle queried, straightening his back and taking a step toward Gwendolyn, prickling as her leaves brushed against the jacket of his suit.

Anthony shrugged, going for calm and relaxed in his demeanor, and hopefully crushing off any panic that was building.

“He wanted to look around in it after we ate, again, woulda seemed suspicious if I just said no, ‘specially since we were already at the creperie.” Anthony admitted, trying to keep his eyes from betraying him, if he looked away from his uncle he’d look suspicious, if he stared at his uncle he’d look suspicious, he let his eyes waft over his plants as he waited to see what his uncle would say.

His uncle raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes glinting with menace, Stan turned slowly from Anthony to the plants and raised a hand to finger Asher’s fronds.

“Now Anthony, I’m sure, that you know that our family’s very foundation, our family’s ability to thrive rests on this duty that I have allocated to you.”

Anthony nodded as he watched his uncle’s long thin fingers trace the outline of Asher’s largest frond, the one that Asher had taken so long to grow, the one that Anthony painstakingly cared for to help it get well and flourish when Asher had gotten sick with anthracnose.

“And I’m sure that you are aware that any slip ups, or failure to thrive with this plan, will result in our downfall in this war. The war that was created generations ago, the one that split the sides of and divided the Edens and the Devilles for the rest of existence. The very war that gave us our very way of life, our prosperities.” His uncle paused and took his gaze from Asher back to Anthony, letting his fingers linger onto Asher’s fronds.

“Y-yes I know uncle.” Anthony cleared his throat to try and get rid of his stutter.

“Then why, does it seem that you are not taking this seriously?” Stan asked icily, his hand wavering over the fronds of the palm tree, as if it was a bumble bee looking for a flower to rest on.

“I am taking it seriously.” Anthony growled back, defensive. He was taking this as seriously as he took keeping his plants alive, his mother’s plants alive. Maybe not in the way that his uncle had designated, but he was taking it seriously.

“Oh? Then tell me, what does that baker plan to bake for the competition?” his uncle sneered.

Anthony hesitated, “Well, he hasn’t told me that yet.” He admitted, his brain scrambled to even recollect if he and Aziraphale had discussed the competition at all at this point.

“How close have you gotten to him for him to trust you with that information?” Stan snapped.

“I’d say close enough for him to tell me that once I ask.” Anthony confessed after deliberating whether telling his uncle that would give more away than he wanted to.

“Well at least you’ve done something right.” Stan cocked an eyebrow, straightening his posture, a challenging stance.

Anthony straightened his own back and lifted his chin in silent defiance to his uncle, his mouth pulling in a tight line.

His uncle smiled, sharp and dripping with honey, like a blade that had been coated with poison toxins, he turned to look at Asher and said nonchalantly, “These plants show that at least you have the determination to do as task, these were your mother’s weren’t they?” He inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Y-yeah, she got them back when they were just little seeds.” Anthony said hesitantly, his gaze flickering from his uncle’s face to Asher.

Anthony watched as the finger his uncle had been tracing Asher’s leaves with abruptly pinched the frond between it and his thumb. Anthony couldn’t help the almost silent gasp that escaped his lips, and he stepped forward reaching a hand toward Asher. His uncle’s gaze was rapt, and his eyes exposed that Anthony had made a mistake making that step forward and that gesture. His uncle’s smile turned into a sneer as his hand gripped Asher’s frond in a tight fist and twisted it sharply.

Anthony winced, his eyes filling with tears, and his heart ripping.

“Anthony, you had better get your shit together, finish this task I set forth for you, or you’ll lose more than some houseplants. Understood?” Stan snarled menacingly.

Anthony bit his lower lip, looked down, and nodded his head.

His uncle released Asher’s frond and let it crumple and fall towards the floor, he crossed the room in two steps stopping in front of Anthony, he gripped Anthony’s chin in his icy hand and yanked his chin up forcing him to look up at his uncle.

“Is that understood?” He enunciated each word with a snap of his jaws and a stare that would be able to pinpoint a molecule out of place.

“Yes, uncle.” Anthony uttered defeated.

His admission did not give his uncle the effect of what he wanted, and he kept a grip on his chin tightly, his nails slightly digging into his flesh.

“You had also, better understand, that you are mine. Without me, you would have nowhere to go, no employment, no place to live, no funds to do anything. All you would have is your houseplants to use to make a fire, and the Bentley to use as a coffin. You would have nothing, you are nothing. And that is never going to change.” His uncle whispered harshly in his ear and pushed him by the grip he had on his chin backwards.

Anthony stumbled slightly but caught his balance and looked up at his uncle, willing his eyes not to give him away.

A knock at the door startled Anthony and he jumped, His uncle grinned and stalked over to the front door, opening it with a whoosh.

“Ah, Lucius, my old friend, how can I be of service?” Stanley asked the man at the door with a small embrace.

Lucius, Anthony’s landlord smiled appreciatively and reciprocated the embrace.

“I got your message about your nephew, it’s good to see that he was able to find his way home, I’m assuming you used your key to get into the place Stanley?’ Lucius asked with a grin, shooting a disgusted glance at Anthony.

“Why yes, I’m so glad I still had it, and that if I didn’t you were willing to let me in. Yes, Anthony made his way home, gave us quite a scare, turns out his phone had died, and he was without a charger. He had been out riding that death trap of his around Tadfield to see Arthur and Dierdre and didn’t bother to call when he was at their house.” The lies oozing out from between his uncle’s lips to his landlord sounding so sweetly that no argument would falter Lucius’ belief and total trust in Stan.

“These young pups don’t know common decency anymore.” Lucius admitted looking at Anthony and shaking his head.

“No, no they don’t. Well thank you for coming to check on him Lucius, and I suspect that his rent has been on time and up front since our last incident?” Stan asked Lucius with fake concern.

Lucius nodded, “Never a day late. He’s lucky to have you for an uncle. Always looking out for him, getting him a nice flat to stay in, a good job. You’re a lucky one, aren’t you boy?” Lucius asked looking at Anthony over Stanley’s shoulder.

Anthony nodded, his body filling with defeat.

“Well I’ll be going, Stanley, why don’t you come with me and have a cup of tea?” Lucius asked clapping a hand on Stanley’s back.

Stanley smiled broadly at Lucius and followed him out of the flat and shut the door behind him, the lock clicking behind him.

A sob broke from Anthony’s mouth as he rushed over to Asher, he fell to his knees and cradled the injured frond in his hands carefully, holding it up to his face,

“Oh Asher, I’m so sorry.” Anthony cried, gently tracing the frond with his fingertips.

Asher’s injured frond was crumpled, twisted so hard some of the greenery had ripped, and half broke off the stem.

Anthony carefully put the damaged frond in a position where it wouldn't get damaged further, and then went to his kitchen, through tears he grabbed a couple old takeout chopsticks, maximum strength glue and plastic wrap from his catch all drawer and tried to doctor the frond to where it may be able to be repaired and grow back together.

As he doctored Asher and murmured apologies through trembling lips, he couldn't keep his self hatred from enveloping him. He gritted his teeth and focused on Asher.

"Oh Asher, 'm so sorry, I didn't know he'd pull this kind of stunt. I'll get you all fixed up, I promise. All the best care I can give you, I'll even tell Gwendolyn to stop hogging the sun beams." He tried chuckling but it caught in his throat as a sob.  
He glanced around at the other plants, all of them seemed to be drooping significantly, their leaves somewhat wrinkled and darkened. The gloomy day outside didn't help matters.

Once he could do all that he could for Asher he placed him in the warmest spot he could find and misted him with the nutrient and water mixture he had made earlier. 

He dully walked away from the plants after they had all been tended to and then he went to his bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it, and he started sobbing, he slid down the door and drew his knees to his chest and sobbed. As he cried memories of his mother flashed through his mind, her tending the plants, both of them together picking out new pots.  
His memories of her made him think about what she would think if she saw him now, being used as a puppet by his uncle, her brother, feeling like a useless bundle of worthless rubbish.  
She would be bloody angry, at him, at her brother, at everyone involved in this masquerade.

As the sobs began to fade Anthony pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and sent Aziraphale a text message "going to be a bit late, but I'll see you later today."  
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, feeling numb all over.  
He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and he glanced at the screen.  
"Sounds tickety boo dear, stay well."  
Several tears escaped Anthony's eyes as he smiled at the message.

As his tears dried and his sobs quieted Anthony started to scroll through his messages and deleting old ones, a few names he didn't recognize so he opened the phone book and looked at the contacts to see who they were, he would note new entries that he would probably forget, and sure enough the unrecognized names were old customers.

As he was hovering a thumb over one name his phone began ringing, "Oliver" flashed on the screen with a note under his name saying he had been a frequent customer due to his many children. 

Anthony answered tentatively, "Hey Oliver how are you?"

"Crowley! Glad to hear you're actually alive, I went into the bakery yesterday and that, what's her name, Fly? Bug? Beetle? Bee? Bee! Bee said that you were 'gone from this place' only she made it sound like you had died.

Anthoyn rolled his eyes, "yeah cousin love is a beautiful thing. what can I do for you Oliver?" He asked, sniffing and wiping at his eyes.

"Well Dominic's birthday is soon and I wanted to talk with my favorite baker about his cake." Oliver said, Anthony could picture his broad grin.

"Ah yeah, I'm not at Lucy's at the moment, but I'll be at A Slice of Heaven for a while. I could have you come there and order it if you'd like." Anthony admitted.

"Never heard of it, but I'll find it and come see you there. Anything I can do for you in the meantime? That old flash job Bentley needing any tune ups?" Oliver offered, like he always did, he was a mechanic and he specialized in vintage cars.

"Nah, she's still running great." Anthony waved off his offer, then a thought came to him.

"Come to think of it, I have been meaning to exchange her old seatbelts for a new set. How long would that put her out of commission for?" Anthony asked with a smile.

"Barely am afternoon, come on down to my shop and we can work out the details of the job and the cake." Oliver laughed.

Anthony hung up his phone and unfolded himself from his position on the floor, he went and washed his face and frowned at his reflection, blotchy skin, dark circles, despite the ghastly reflection looking back at him, he couldn't help but feeling the best he had felt all day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets a visit from his uncles and gets a Karen type of customer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay people, this chapter sucks, it sucked for me to write cuz it's a mix of show omens, personal experience, and just suckiness.  
> There is fatphobia, there is fat shaming, there is reference to homophobia, there is inward fatphobia/shaming.  
> There is gabriel and Randolph (sandalphon) doing that boxing Aziraphale in thing.  
> But the end Crowley arrives.

After telling a sleeping Anthony how he was feeling about him, Aziraphale could hardly sleep that night, tossing and turning, giddy and worrying. What if Anthony didn’t feel the same way? He would look extremely foolish, but then Anthony had been asleep when he had told him those things through the phone, he hadn’t heard them at all, he rationed while he worried.

Once it hit three in the morning he called it a night and got up for the day, he went and began to ready himself for another day at the bakery, changing from his pajamas to a woolen brown and blue sweater, and some comfortable tan workpants.

He went downstairs and put a kettle of water on to boil as he inventoried what baked goods he had left over from the day before and looked at his fruit supply to see what he should make today to sell. He placed his apron on over his head and tied it behind him, before grabbing some fresh peaches, ginger, and the rest of the ingredients he would need for ginger peach pie, as he gathered the flour, cinnamon, lemon juice, brown sugar, cornstarch, butter, nutmeg, and eggs and brought them over to the kitchen island. As he gathered the bowls and various utensils and preheated both of the ovens he did have some cookies that needed baked as well, he would need the kettle of water started shrieking, smiling to himself he grabbed a mug and his special mixed dried leaves for jasmine tea, and mixed them carefully with the water. Once his tea was prepared perfectly, he started drinking it as he began to peel them carefully.

By the time he was finished his tea and peeling the peaches he started to slice them in nice sections, not too big, not too small, perfectly bite sized, and drained the peach juices to set it aside. Next, he began to peel and chop the ginger roots and then in a separate bowl, began mixing the sugars together and then carefully adding the peaches/ginger mixture and tossing the them to evenly coat the fruits with the sweetness.

Once he had finished with that, he covered the bowl to let it sit and then sprinkled the top of the island with a nice layer of flour. Then he gathered the pie crusts he had previously prepared from the cooler and gently began to roll the crust out onto the flour sprinkled countertop. Ever so gently he rolled his rolling pin over the dough and hummed to himself, rolling from the center of the dough to the edges alternating turning the dough over in his hands as he rolled, roll, turn, roll, turn.

Once the dough was at a good consistency, he grabbed his pie pans and began to coat the bottoms with a splash of melted butter and then began to place the pie crust in the pans, tucking it carefully with his thick fingers, making sure it was smooth in the pan before trimming and fluting the edges. After doing this he began to heat a large saucepan on the stove combining the cornstarch, nutmeg, cinnamon and salt and gradually stirring in reserved peach juice. As the mixture began to boil, he stirred to bring it to cook and stir it until the mixture was thickened, after about a couple minutes. He removed the saucepan from the heat and stirred in the lemon juice and butter before he gently folded in the slices of peaches. He grabbed the saucepan and carefully poured the peach mixture into crusts that were ready, he began to cut slice and organize the top layer of crust into a braided lattice on each pie.

Satisfied with his work he placed the pies in the oven and set the timer to go off once they were through, he checked the time and saw that it was getting closer to opening than he originally thought. Aziraphale went to the front of the shop and began preparing for the day, sweeping and cleaning, putting chairs in their proper places, making sure the lavatory had tissue papers and hand towels.

He checked the time again, and then pulled his mobile from his pocket, noting that Anthony had not arrived yet, and as it seemed had not called or messaged him. Aziraphale tried not to get nervous, of course Anthony was coming, he had said as much last night. But then after he said it Aziraphale had admitted his feelings for Anthony, what if that’s why Anthony wasn’t here yet, because he didn’t want to be around Aziraphale after that admission.

Aziraphale steadied his nerves by taking a deep breath, reasoning with himself, Anthony had been asleep when Aziraphale had told him how he felt, surely if he had been awake he would have had some reaction to being told that Aziraphale was falling in love with him.

Aziraphale began to load the display shelves with the leftover goods from yesterday, and then fitted a space for the pies that were baking now, as well as for the cookies that were waiting to be baked and scones, he planned on making before opening. He went back to the kitchen and rolled the baking card with cookie sheets out and wheeled it to the second oven with more shelving, he carefully placed each pan on the shelves and closed the oven, setting a timer for that to let him know when they were done as well.

As he grabbed supplies to make his lavender almond scones, and amaretto raspberry scones, his best sellers, and most personal favorite scones, since some of the ingredients for the pies were also needed for the scones he checked to see what else he would need and then went to grab the remaining items that he needed.  
After gathering almond milk, edible lavender, heavy cream, amaretto liqueur, almond extract, almonds, raspberries and powdered sugar he began the proper technique of preparing them and mixing the ingredients perfectly, as he mixed and measured and sliced and roasted his mind went again to Anthony and how strong his feelings were becoming for him. The way his sunset hair tumbled down just past his shoulders in gentle curls, how his dimples in his cheeks popped when he laughed about something particularly amusing. Aziraphale thought about how it had felt when Anthony was helping him score bread, and when he was calming down from his anxiety attack, how safe and protected he felt in the long willowy embrace of the other man, how his heart rumbled deep in his chest when he caught his gaze, or how his stomach felt like butterflies were flapping wildly, with no inhibitions or control over their own actions.

Aziraphale beamed, wiped his hands and placed the scones in the oven with the cookies, setting yet another timer to remind him to not burn the baked goods, and then went to the front of the store, where the sun was beginning to shine in through the windows.

“Bugger.” He muttered to himself, time to open was in five minutes and Anthony was still not here, and he was still baking, he disliked when that happened because it could be hard to make sure things didn’t burn and simultaneously making sure the customers were being assisted. He slipped back into the back kitchen before anyone coming up on the shop spotted him and he waited out the timers. As each item finished in the ovens, he would load them onto a rolling cart and ready it to go to the front. He planned on taking it all at once as well as opening shop so he could load the display case as well as chat with the customers as they arrived.

As he loaded the rolling cart his mobile dinged indicating that he had received a text message, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open, a message from Anthony was scrolling on the screen stating “Going to be a bit late, but I’ll see you later today.” Aziraphale felt a sense of relief and concern flood over him at the same time, he wondered what was going on, but not wanting to pry he typed out a four-word reply “Sounds tickety boo dear.” And slipped the mobile back in his pocket. He was glad to hear from Anthony, but worried about why he was going to be late. Not that it was any of his business why he was going to be late, but of course he worried a bit.

The last timer began to go off and he loaded the rolling rack and pushed it to the front of the store, stopping at the display case, before loading it he went and unlocked the front door for any customers that would want to venture in as he prepared the case for the day.

He started to move the baked goods from the rolling rack and placing them into the case when he heard the bell above the front door tinkle, and his first sets of customers come in.

“Good morning, welcome to A Slice of Heaven, how can I assist you?” He recited without looking up, trying to get a couple more scones to fit nicely in the row he had them in without stacking them.

He turned and smiled at the small group that had entered, seemingly a group of interns on breakfast order runs they all had the same jumpy harried look about them as if they were fueled by caffeine and hopes for a better future.

As he assisted the young adults with their bakery orders for their employers more people began filing in at a steady pace, Aziraphale smiled at each one, his grin helped ease the worried looks on their faces, leaving them with a gentle warmth.

As more customers came in as he was getting a set of scones and a slice of pie for one lady the bell over the door dinged to alert to more customers. He glanced up seeing his Uncles Randolph and Gabriel standing in the doorway surveying the crowd of morning customers.

Aziraphale nodded at them with a smile, not breaking stride with the customer he was with now, a sweet young nanny watching the U.S. Cultural Attaché’s son. She was a frequent customer who usually brought young Warlock into the shop with her, Aziraphale had learned that she had taken over the roll as nanny when Warlock’s first nanny had run off with their gardener, who was currently looking up at his nanny with wide eyes.

“Nanny can I please have a cookie and a scone?” He pleaded tugging on her hand.

“Warlock, your mother said to limit your sweets because your birthday party is later, and you’ll be having cake.” The nanny said exasperated as if she had had this conversation with him several times already today.

Warlock gave Aziraphale a forlorn look, like a puppy who had been denied table scraps, Aziraphale winked at the young man and asked he rested his arms crossed on the countertop, “How old are you today Warlock?”

Warlock looked past a curtain of dark hair and peeked his blue eyes at Aziraphale, “I’m eleven today, as is my best friend Adam Young, we’re having a joint birthday party with our friends at three today. We’re supposed to have a magician and a petting zoo, maybe water gun fights as well as long as the weather stays nice.” Warlock said excitedly, bouncing on his feet, the excitement coming off him in waves.

Aziraphale smiled and looked at the Nanny, arching an eyebrow, she admitted defeat and gave a small nod.

“Well Warlock, I’ll tell you what, only because it’s your birthday, and your best friend’s birthday, here is a cookie and a scone for each of you. But you have to promise that Adam will get his share.” Aziraphale stage whispered to Warlock.

Warlock nodded excitedly as Aziraphale opened the display case and plucked out the scones and cookies that Warlock pointed too. He wrapped both sets in their own bags and handed them to the young boy. Then nanny started to ask how much extra it would cost compared to the birthday cake she just picked up.

“No extra charge, and here, you take some for yourself, who knows if you’ll get any of the cake what with two birthdays going on at the same time.” Aziraphale slid a bag with another scone and cookie in the cake bag and pushed it gently to the nanny.

She gave him a large smile and took the bag in one hand and Warlock’s free hand in the other and they started walking out of the shop.

As Aziraphale began to help the next customers in line a loud voice cleared and asked in a booming voice, “Excuse me sir, I would like to purchase a cake, I would like to discuss my order in private because it is…” Aziraphale looked up to see his uncles Gabriel and Randolph standing there, Gabriel had been speaking initially.

Randolph glanced at him to finish his sentence but Gabriel faltering about what kind of cake he would need in private Randolph supplied, “An exotic pornographic cake, shaped like genitalia?” with a smirk.

Gabriel grinned widely, “Yes, an exotic pornographic cake, exactly. May we discuss this in private?” he asked sweeping the room with a look.

Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh or die of embarrassment, his other patrons looked at his uncles with surprise, and then glanced at Aziraphale with slight disgust.

Aziraphale nervously cleared his own throat, “I’m afraid I do not sell those types of cakes, but perhaps I can help you order a different kind? If you follow me, I will be back promptly.” He said to the customer at the counter and he gestured to the door as Gabriel and Randolph went through to the kitchen.

“Did you see the look on their faces, so gullible, that was comical, way to go Randolph.” Gabriel chuckled at Randolph who stood their looking proud, Gabriel walked past Aziraphale and was standing near the end of the island, Aziraphale stopped when he noticed that Randolph was behind him, to let him pass and stand near Gabriel. Randolph stood with his hands clasped behind his back, no intention of moving. Aziraphale stood in between them, he tried to stand where he could look at both of them at the same time, but he was unable to maneuver in such a way, he would have to turn his back on one of them to talk to the other.

“What brings you two by?” Aziraphale asked looking from one to the other with a nervous smile. Usually when his uncle Gabriel came to his shop it wasn’t good news.

“Ah well Aziraphale I was just doing the books the last few days and it seems like there’s been either an error on my part,”

“Not very likely.” Randolph quipped, Aziraphale turned to look at him and then back to Gabriel who smiled like a cat watching an unsuspecting bird, “or an error on the bakery reports. It seems that we aren’t making as much money as we should, with as much product as is being used.” Gabriel widened his eyes and raised his hands in a disbelieving gesture.

“Well, I did mention several months ago, that instead of just throwing away the old left over product, like somewhat stale breads, muffins that no one wanted, that I would give them to The Raphael House of the Lord, so that they can give it to the children that they care for there, so they can plump up their meals so to speak.” Aziraphale said sheepishly, inwardly cringing at his word choice knowing that it would come back to bite him, though he did mention this to Gabriel, he had not been fond of the idea, but nor had he denied it.

“I do recall you mentioning that, but I also recall saying that I didn’t think that would be wise in the climate that is currently happening with our competition in town.” Gabriel said raising an eyebrow.

“What with all the other bakeries, cafés, creperies.” Randolph rattled off, seeming to enunciate on the word creperie.

Aziraphale turned back from Randolph to Gabriel, “Well, as it were, since you didn’t say no I gave them a call, and since they have been collecting the old product from us, we have gotten more patrons coming through that go to their church, more business from them, several cake and custom orders, even the deacon of the church asking if we cater.” Aziraphale’s voice grew prouder as he spoke about the good decision he had made.

Gabriel seemed to be thinking that over, pursing his lips and nodding slightly.

“Well that is good to hear, especially the catering, that is if you can keep up with it. It’s quite a lot of work as well as doing all this.” Gabriel said appreciatively.

“Well I have had someone coming in, as a somewhat of an apprentice, he’s quite good. I’m sure between the two of us we can handle it.” Aziraphale stuttered.

Gabriel looked over Aziraphale’s head at Randolph, and Aziraphale turned from Gabriel to follow his gaze, Randolph shrugged, “Apprentices don’t need to be paid, but reputations need to be upheld, who is this apprentice?” Randolph asked in a bored tone.

“His name is Anthony, Anthony er, ah, well now that I think of it I don’t think I’ve caught his surname, as I said he hasn’t been here long.” Aziraphale quavered slightly, realizing how stupid this was going to sound to his uncles, who background checked everyone before even returning a phone call about hiring someone.

“Well, seems like you have even more work to do with that loose end, but as long as he proves to be an asset and not a liability, I’m sure that even you can handle delegating some duties to him.” Randolph said putting some pressure on the ‘you’.

“As I had said that there has been more of a shortage, and that display when we came in over the U.S. Cultural Attaché’s son, I surely hope you don’t give pastries away like that willy nilly.” Gabriel started to say, taking a step closer to Aziraphale.

“Though it is okay to give it to the boy on occasion, since he is the son of a public figure such as Mr. Dowling, but just regular patrons, I would keep that on a less than minimum action. That as well as eating the product yourself.” Gabriel said giving a pointed look to Aziraphale’s wide middle.

Aziraphale felt a blush creeping across his face, “Well I don’t really tend to indulge with this product, I do have my flat upstairs if I do get peckish.” Aziraphale muttered.

“Aziraphale,” Randolph said, his voice closer than it had been previously, Aziraphale turned to look at his uncle, his gold tooth shining in the light in a sneer that was probably meant to be a smile.

“We all have our weaknesses of the flesh, some of us more than others,” He said deliberately looking at Aziraphale’s belly, slowly raking his gaze up his body, a flash of disgust in his eyes, “But if we lead not into temptations, we will be delivered from evil, if we climb every mountain and ford every stream, we can be better, worthy even.” Randolph said making Aziraphale shrink within himself and shudder slightly, his shudder caused him to bump into Gabriel who had stepped closer.

“I,” Aziraphale gulped slightly, “I wouldn’t think that baked goods would count as evil.” He said trying to laugh to brighten his retort to his uncle Randolph, so it wouldn’t come off as belligerent.

“Gluttony is a sin Aziraphale.” Randolph said, he tsked and added, “Though it may be considered less of a sin than say, lust. Lust especially lust that leads to, bonding before holy unity, is quite frowned upon by the lord. And especially,” he paused, his eyes widening at Aziraphale, “if they lay with the same flesh as their own.” Aziraphale felt a wave of disparaging and indignity flood him again, his nerves vibrating down his arms, his throat drying. A faint memory of his uncle spouting about the smiting of the sinners at Sodom and Gomorrah flitted through his mind and he shivered.

“Well, do the sins have a numerical order? Going from bad to worse?” Aziraphale tittered, trying to relieve some of the heat that he was feeling, he imagined his uncle Randolph containing a secret hellfire on his person to smite him with, and he gulped again.

His uncle Randolph had a look spark in his eyes that said if Aziraphale wasn’t a direct relation to him, that he would try to smite him on his own, hellfire or no.

“This can be a serious matter Aziraphale, but luckily, you don’t have to worry about lust. Not that if you felt it would it be reciprocated, the gluttony you perform, and evidence of, smites that sin for us. Though I do pray for your soul either way.” Randolph vilipended in a voice dripping with belittlement and disgust. The last statement in a tone of fake good intentions.

“Aziraphale, the, gross matter you consume, the products you are supposed to be selling, if you are indulging in them too frequently, in too numerous amounts, not only will it make you more, soft,” His uncle Gabriel paused snaking an arm over Aziraphale’s shoulders and placed giving him a friendly punch to the belly, “It will also cause our profits to go down, which in turn will eventually lead us to losing Pop’s legacy. Though the orchards will still be alright of course.” He let the hand that had punched Aziraphale waver in the air, “The bakery is Pop’s real legacy, and I know,” as he spoke this his hand swiftly went from waving in the air to flat against Aziraphale’s belly, “You would hate for that to fall into demise.” Gabriel said raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

“Yes, I would, I don’t want Grandfather’s legacy to dissipate.” Aziraphale stuttered, afraid to move a muscle under his uncle’s touch, knowing better than to bring up his dream of the bookshop at this moment.

“Alright then, now I know how much you loved and emulated Pop, but Aziraphale,” Gabriel paused catching Aziraphale’s gaze. When their eyes locked, he gave his large wide belly a couple pats, “Lose the gut, makes us look bad as a business, can’t let it seem like we’re slovenly here.” He said with a wide grin.

Aziraphale felt himself blush, and he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the wave of shame that reverberated through him down to his core. His uncle’s tactics had worked like they had when he was a child. He tried to keep his lower lip from trembling with mortification, with disgrace. He gave a weak nod to his uncle, who glanced past Aziraphale back to Randolph, who clapped a hand on Aziraphale’s free shoulder from behind, Aziraphale could feel his uncle Randolph’s hot breath on the back of his neck.

“Till we see you again nephew.” Randolph said coolly, his tone acidic and icy.

“Till Sunday! If not sooner.” Gabriel added with a gleeful voice.

“If not sooner.” Aziraphale repeated dully.

His uncles took their hands off Aziraphale and headed toward the door separating the kitchen from the storefront, Aziraphale trailing behind them soundlessly, noting that only a couple customers had left during their little family conference.

He heard his uncle Randolph whisper something to Gabriel, and Gabriel chuckled, as they reached the door Randolph pushed it open and Gabriel called over his shoulder, “Thank you for my pornography!” the bakery door shut with a thunk on his uncles amalgamated laughter.

Aziraphale looked around at the patrons of the bakery, some of them were regulars and knew who his uncles were since they were part of the Eden name, but the newer ones looked at him with flagrant disgust on their face and walked out of the bakery.

Aziraphale sighed and went back up to the counter, plastering as much of a smile on his face as he could at the couple standing there waiting to get their baked goods.

“S-so sorry about that, my uncles like to joke around you understand.” He fussed with his apron string as the couple at the counter looked at him, they were a younger couple, the young man frequented the shop, but Aziraphale didn’t recognize the young woman.

“Hello Newton, and miss?” He greeted the pair with a weak smile aimed at them both.

“Device, Anathema Device, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Eden, Newt here has told me loads about your bakery.” Anathema said with a warm smile. Aziraphale extended a hand to her over the display case and shook her slender on in his.

“Mr. Eden, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Newt started glancing behind him and then turning back to Aziraphale, “Your uncles are a couple of right mingebag arsehole wankers.” Newt spat angrilily, locking his bespectacled eyes with Aziraphale.

Anathema snorted a laugh and covered her mouth to try and keep her peal of laughter contained.

“Newton, that isn’t a nice thing to say.” Aziraphale said, a corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Well they are, come in here making it seem like you’re running a cake brothel with knobs of frosting everywhere. Making you look like an immoral sucker in your own shop. Those of us who know you and are here more than those two twits know that isn’t the case.” Newt said in an urgent tone.

Aziraphale gave Newt a weak smile, and cleared his throat, “Ah, now what can I get the pair of you? On the house.”

Newt smiled and gestured for Anathema to pick out their pastries, of which she picked a couple of the available scones, smiling at their warmth as Aziraphale handed them to her.

“Thanks Mr. Eden, we’ll see you next time.” Newt said giving Aziraphale a wave and leading Anathema out of the shop.

Aziraphale reciprocated the wave and watched as the pair left, Newton slipping one hand in Anathema’s as they walked down the sidewalk in front of the bakery.

Aziraphale sighed longingly and caught his reflection in the glass of the display case, his gaze went to his corpulent midsection, and he had a wave of weariness wash over him. He lifted his gaze to the rest of the customers in the shop and then his gaze flitted to the clock on the wall. He sighed to himself as he realized it was later in the morning than he thought, almost afternoon time now.

As he waited for a customer to come to the counter, he slipped his mobile out of his pocket to see if perhaps Anthony had called or left a message throughout the conversation with his uncles and he had missed it. He opened the phone and looked at the plain manufacturer’s setting background, no new messages, no missed calls.

He sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket, a couple customers filtering out of the bakery without buying anything. The father with two young boys came to the counter and asked for some cookies for them to take with them on their walk. The man glanced at his children to make sure they were out of ear shot and leaned toward Aziraphale as paid the cost of the cookies.

“I’d also like to order one of those exotic cakes that fellow was talking about earlier. I’m hosting a bachelor party in a few weeks and think it would be a stitch.” The man said in a hushed tone, glancing around him to make sure no one had overheard.

Aziraphale exhaled sharply, a bubble of anger starting, damn his uncles for talking like that in his bakery, in his grandfather’s bakery, tarnishing his reputation with filth.

“Sir, I do apologize, but I don’t sell those sorts of baked goods here, the men from earlier were family members attempting to make a joke. Regrettably it fell short in the humor department but did seem to filter into the forefront of my customer’s minds, I’m terribly sorry, I’m sure there is another bakery in town that can fulfill that request for you.” Aziraphale apologized as he walked around the display counter to the customer’s side to hand the bag of cookies to the two boys.

The man raised an eyebrow, “Well, it’s a simple enough request, can’t you fulfill it? I’ve been a patron here since I was a boy, and now I bring my own boys. It doesn’t have to be shaped like anything, a regular sheet cake is okay, but if you use the frosting to make images, or have an image transferred onto the cake that would work as well. Now how much would I owe you for that?” The man asked tersely, the boys at his side looking up at him with wide eyes, slightly leaning toward him.

Aziraphale stood upright and spoke firmly, “Sir, I do not sell cakes of the sort, shaped in that way, or having any images depicted on them in that manner, I can do a regular sheet cake and sell the frosting extra and let you take it home to decorate it yourself how you see fit. But I do not and will not sell anything remotely like that.”

The man’s face turned a shade of pink and his jaw clenched, “Mr. Eden, it can’t be that hard to just decorate a cake like that, I want it to look professional, not pay more, and do extra work, to get it that way myself. I’ll even throw in a tip, maybe refer your bakery to my place of business to do catering events. Doesn’t that sound lovely? Now sir, how much would I have to pay for that.” He said pulling his wallet out again and offering Aziraphale a handful of pounds, a slippery smile on his face.

Aziraphale prickled and stood straighter, “Sir, I refuse to decorate or bake a cake that depicts any vulgarities, nudity, or inappropriate images or shapes. Now the matter is closed, I insist you implore elsewhere for a cake that would suit your needs.” He said pointedly ignoring the man’s offering.

The man had a vein bulging on his forehead now, his boys had fallen back by the entrance, looking as if they were ready to bolt if the conversation escalated more.

“If you don’t do this you will lose my business, and I’ll tell everyone that you refused a simple order and gave horrid customer service, by word of mouth and on Yelp, I have a lot of pull in my community and I can make them start going to another bakery as well. I’ll go to another place from now on, and my boys will be forbidden from coming here. Now are you going to fulfill my order request or not?” The man poked Aziraphale in the chest with a bony finger.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “Sir I am going to have to ask you to leave my establishment, I am sorry that you feel the need to spread falsities about my business, but if that’s what you choose I can’t stop you, now please, have a good day, the door is right there.” Aziraphale gestured to the door where the man’s boys were holding it open already, anticipating a raging bull.

The man inhaled sharply and pointed a finger in Aziraphale’s face, “You’ve lost my business for good you stupid ruddy fatarse!” He turned sharply and barreled through the boys and past the door and out into the street, his boys hurrying to catch up behind him.

Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped and he inhaled deeply, his heart pierced and close to nearly shattering.

He sighed and went to the door to lock it to close for a break, possibly even for the rest of the day, he didn’t know if just a little bit of a break would do it, the day was just heartache after heartache.

As he reached the lock on the door a flurry of slender pointed angles dressed in black with a flurry of red piled gathered on his head rushed the door, pulling it open out of Aziraphale’s grasp before he was able to lock it, “Aziraphale.” Anthony breathed as he came to a grounding halt on the opposite side of the doorway, a small crooked smile playing on his lips.

Aziraphale felt his heartrate pickup as he inhaled sharply a blush creeping across his face, his feelings upon first seeing Anthony clearer now than before, and his uncle’s vile words rang in his ear.

He sighed deeply, this day was just heart ache after heart ache.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Anthony go upstairs to Aziraphale's flat to wind down from dual crappy mornings. Anthony is the first person to ever be in Aziraphale's flat besides himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!  
> I had the virus, my adhd took a hit, been super stressed and depressed, just not a lemon zest.  
> FINALLY reinspired and I'm gonna keep adding to this hopefully every week!   
> Thank you all for being patient and understanding!

As Anthony walked into the bakery Aziraphale locked the door and flipped the sign over to closed. Anthony turned and he felt a small smile dance across his lips for the first time that day, though something was hidden in Aziraphale’s expression that made his blue eyes a cloudy shade of emotions.

“I’m sorry again, that I’m late.” He mumbled, embarrassed about possibly being the thing to upset Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked up at Anthony to give him a small smile, “It’s quite alright, I’m slightly glad that you were late, my uncles came and it most likely would have been an unpleasant experience.” He explained, his expression guarded. He came around the back of the counter of the display case and sat down on the stool back there, his shoulders slouched.

“Oh.” Anthony said lamely, not sure if he was at a place where he could ask more about it in their relationship, but the dull sheen to Aziraphale’s eyes that replaced his usual sparkle concerned Anthony.

“Fuck it,” he murmured to himself, and then he strode a couple steps closer to Aziraphale, he folded his arms and rested them on the display counter across from Aziraphale’s. Their arms brushed against each other gently, Aziraphale, surprised at the contact, looked up from the counter and looked at Anthony.

“I take it, that the visit didn’t go well.” Anthony stated, his eyes searching over Aziraphale’s plump face, caressing his rounded cheeks with his gaze from behind his sunglasses.

Aziraphale sighed heavily and tipped his head up at Anthony, his blue eyes dancing over his sharp features.

“No, it didn’t go very well at all, it was, wholly unpleasant.” Aziraphale said, his lips pulling down at the corners.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Anthony asked gently.

A blush spread across Aziraphale’s face and he brought his gaze away from Anthony’s face, “It was just a, visit over profits and products. My uncles were concerned, that more products were being made than profit earned.” Aziraphale mumbled.

Anthony could tell that they had talked about more than that, but he didn’t want to press Aziraphale if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“My uncle stopped by today too, not much fun on that end either. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.” Anthony stammered, not wanting to give away too much of his morning.

“Just a tip top morning for the both of then eh?” Aziraphale said with a fake laugh.

Anthony gave him a crooked grin, they gazed at one another for a beat of silence, two beats, the silence finally broken by a large sigh from Aziraphale, “I am afraid I am not feeling much for customers today, I think I will close up the shop early today. Though I’m sure my uncles will hear about that and berate me for it as well. I’m sorry if that gives you nothing to do today.” Aziraphale murmured looking away from Anthony’s gaze.

“Nah, ‘s alright, how about lunch? I owe you one.” He offered, his eyebrows pulling upwards in the middle earnestly, he needed to spend time with Aziraphale after this morning, even though it caused his stomach to churn with guilt, it also caused his heartbeat to quicken.

Aziraphale gave a weak smile, “I’m afraid I don’t really want to venture out of the shop today either.”

Anthony winced at the rejection, though he wasn’t surprised he also wasn’t expecting it.

“Though,” Aziraphale started, squeaking the word out after seeing Anthony flinch after denying his lunch.

“If you’d like, we could, go, go up to my flat. I still have the cheeses you bought for me from the farmer’s market, thank you again. As well, I have some fruits, crackers, meats, and wine that would pair with it quite stupendously. If you’d like, not to be, forward or anything of the sort.” Aziraphale stumbled over his words and blushed as he invited Anthony upstairs to his flat. He had never had anyone over before, not even family members.

Anthony was struck speechless for a moment, letting the wistful smile wobble across his lips at the thought of being able to spend time with Aziraphale in his flat, no business pressure, no customer interruptions, likely no family interruptions. Maybe help calm the storm that had been raging in his head. That thought brought back to the forefront of his mind the conversation with his uncle and a dark cloud threatened to shower a flood over his happier thoughts, but he buried it deep in another corner of his mind. One more day of not aggressively going after the task wouldn’t hurt.

“Sure, that sounds great.” Anthony said finally after several beats of silence.

Aziraphale smiled the most genuine smile he had all day and stood up from the stool.

“Right then, well let me lock everything up and turn everything off. If you’d like you can pick something to take upstairs with us, the pie is ginger peach.” Aziraphale said glancing at the pies on display, making a mental note to tally anything that Anthony wanted so he could pay for it later.

Anthony perused the display case while Aziraphale went around the shop, locking the doors and turning lights off. The braiding of the crust of the pies were so beautiful he couldn’t not want one, and the other pastries looked delectable too. He decided on one pie and he turned to ask Aziraphale if it was alright if he took it out of the case.

“Why yes, that’s quite alright. Once we have that we are all set to go upstairs.” Aziraphale said with a grin.

Anthony smiled warmly back and gingerly opened the display case and took a pie out, carefully cradling it in his grasp and shutting the case. Aziraphale locked it behind him and then led him through the door separating the bakery front and the kitchen.

Anthony trailed behind patiently as Aziraphale turned off all the ovens and stoves, locked the back door with the multiple locks that were in place, and quickly put away all the ingredients that had been left out when he started that day.

After Aziraphale ran a rag quickly over the counter tops to wipe off any specks of sugar or flour that was left behind, hung up his apron, and then turned and smiled at Anthony.

“Now that we’re all closed up, follow me.” He said brightly.

He led Anthony to the small corner office, then shut and locked that door behind them, and then unlocked the door to the stairs that led to his flat.

As Aziraphale led Anthony upstairs he felt his nerves begin to quake, he had never had anyone up in his flat before, not even family, and especially not anyone that he was fond of. He worried that Anthony would feel like he invited him up there for more egregious nefarious physical reasons, which he didn’t know how to make that clear that that wasn’t the case, without sounding completely asinine. He nervously bit his lower lip as they ascended the stairs, Anthony close on his heels.

Aziraphale wondered what was flitting through Anthony’s head, wondered if he was noticing how much of the walkway of the stairwell that Aziraphale’s large form was taking up. Wondered if Anthony noticed how his sweater was clinging to the gentle rolls on his sides and his back. Redness painted Aziraphale’s face as he imagined these thoughts, then he took in a deep breath and exhaled, he remembered Anthony’s words from when they were in the Bentley rang through his head and he relaxed a little bit. There was no way someone who spoke and thought like that would be intentionally cruel.

Anthony felt a bubble of excitement start to grow just below his chest, and that bubble felt like it was full of trembling butterflies flapping their small mighty wings rapidly.

He followed Aziraphale up the small staircase and then through another door.

Aziraphale stopped suddenly in the doorway of the flat and realized that Anthony would be seeing what a clutter it was.

“Er, I know I’ve told you that I collect rare books and would like to open a bookshop?” He asked with his brows knitted together.

“Yeah?” Anthony asked curiously.

“Well, ah, my flat accurately portrays that, so be mindful of where you step, and sit, and stand, and frankly breathe. There are books everywhere, and I wouldn’t want you to injure any of them, or yourself.” Aziraphale added after a beat of silence.

Anthony started laughing wildly, “You don’t want me to injure any books? What if they decide to injure me?” He asked through giggles.

Aziraphale sniffed, “There are collectible first editions in there and I wouldn’t want them injured beyond repair. Just mind how you go through the flat.” He said a smirk playing across his lips.

Anthony grinned at Aziraphale’s back as Aziraphale opened the door to the flat and led the way in.

As soon as Anthony stepped inside the flat, he knew why Aziraphale had warned him. The place had books covering every inch. There were stacks of books supporting rows of books on every surface available and stacked on the floor on top of various fabric cloths to protect them from the floor.

Anthony looked around in awe of how many books were stuffed into the flat, his mouth forming an O as he surveyed the collection. A whole wall was nothing but books lining the shelves from ceiling to the floor. The books seemed to not be in any order that Anthony could tell. The tallest shelf had books stuffed on top of the row, close to brushing against the ceiling. There was a couple of tables with lamps on them that had books stacked on them, just far enough away from the lightbulbs to keep them from bursting into flames. The lamps were shaped like garden vases, with a pale almost pink glow, the shade had a beaded fringe trim along the curved edges.

Anthony’s gaze flitted to the couch and chairs, both armchairs had piles of books in them, the couch had books opened and spread across the cushions, and the coffee table in front of it held books, as well as what looked to be a repair kit.

Anthony remembered how Aziraphale had had him sniff his book on their first meeting, and he didn’t even have to sniff to get the scent tendrils in his nostrils. The aroma of the ancient books wavered through the flat decorating it with the strong smells of cedar, gently decorated with the hint of dust, almonds, and vanilla.

“How do they smell so sweet? Is it because you live over the bakery?” Anthony asked as he continued to look all around at the hundreds of books all over the flat.

“That would be the ethylbenzene, benzaldehyde, and vanillin. It’s all in how the books were made, as well as stored. Those are just some of the common scents.” Aziraphale said as he cleared off the couch and the coffee table so he and Anthony would have a place to sit as well as put their refreshments.

Anthony was struck with wonderment, not only at the book collection, but at Aziraphale as he gracefully maneuvered around the stacks of books Carefully placing a hand on one here and there to keep the stack from toppling over as he squeezed by, dancing around the ancient works.

“This place is so….” Anthony started, he hesitated a moment, wanting to come up with the perfect complimentary word, and not sound like a cliché spouting knob.

“I know, it’s messy and dirty, full of frivolous things.” Aziraphale said with a sigh as he moved a small stack of books from one end of the coffee table onto the shelf under it. His uncle may not have been in the flat before, but he knew that Aziraphale had a rather extensive collection, even without seeing it, his uncle always had comments about it.

Anthony frowned, his nose scrunched slightly, and a wrinkle appeared in the center of his brow.

“No, s’not what I was gonna say. Wos gonna say amazing but didn’t want to sound like a twat. Anthony mumbled with a derisive sniff.

Aziraphale laughed, surprised at Anthony’s comment.

“Well, amazing will do just fine, and it doesn’t make you sound like a twat, here, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get the wine, and make up a nice charcuterie board.” Aziraphale said aiming a warm smile toward Anthony over his shoulder.

“A shark-rat-tour-tree?” Anthony asked with confusion coloring his tone, one crimson eyebrow cocked high.

Aziraphale started at the pronunciation and then let out a big laugh, “Oh goodness, no,” He paused placing a thick hand on his belly, trying to contain his laughter, not wanting to insult Anthony.

Anthony felt his mouth turn into a wobbly smile as he gazed at Aziraphale laughing freely.

“A charcuterie board.” Aziraphale said slowly, annunciating the word more clearly. “It’s the art of preparing and assembling cured meats, fruits, crackers, and cheeses. Somewhat snobby of me to say that instead of just say a meat spread, I suppose.”

Anthony chuckled, “Well, that is how you talk, so snobby fits better.” He said smirking at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale stuck his tongue out at Anthony and turned towards the kitchen leaving Anthony to wander about the flat as he prepared the charcuterie board. Aziraphale stole a glance at Anthony before turning away to direct his attention to the preparation of the board, his lips pulled into a smile as he caught Anthony gazing around the flat in wonderment at his collection.

As Aziraphale made his way into the kitchen, pulling things out of the refrigerator and cupboards Anthony went over to the books that lined the wall and began delicately tracing his finger over the spines of the books. The soft ancient leather and buckram tender beneath his touch, he leaned closer to look at the various titles, but the lighting in the flat was so dim he could barely make any out unless his nose was practically touching the spines.

Anthony snorted as he realized that his sunglasses were still shielding his eyes from any harmful lights. He glanced up as he heard Aziraphale clinking and chopping in the kitchen and smiled warmly. He reached up and took the sunglasses off his face and gently placed them onto the coffee table.

As Anthony wandered through the living area Aziraphale delicately arranged the charcuterie board, he started with arranging the small jars around the board, first he added various options for spreads; fig jelly, marionberry habanero pepper jelly, and some course ground mustard. Then he added a couple jars with pistachios at one end of the board and a jar of almonds at the other.

As he studied the board so far he rearranged the jars around and then, satisfied, he began to add the meats, he arranged Genoa Salame and Prosciutto decoratively on the board closer to the jars of spreads, he arranged them into an accordion on the borders of the center jar. He pulled the box of wove garlic and onion crackers out and fanned them next to the remaining jars. Aziraphale hummed to himself as he went to the refrigerator and pulled out some strawberries, cherry tomatoes, a green apple, and a handful of green grapes. He sliced the apple and strawberries and carefully chose where to place them on the board to make it pop, making sure he didn’t put too many bland colors around each other. He thoughtfully studied it a moment then pulled out the cheeses that Anthony had purchased for him at the farmer’s market.

Aziraphale looked at the heart shaped cheese and carefully carved out slices of the heart shaped load and then arranged them on one edge of the board. Then he brought out some of the cubed habanero mango cheddar cheese, and then added a small jar of mini mozzarella balls to even out the savory and spicy aspects of the board.

Aziraphale smiled to himself, pleased with the outcome of the board, and began to carry it carefully to the living area. He turned with the board and nearly stumbled as he saw that Anthony was still studying the book wall that he had piled to near splintering. He was trancelike looking at the spines of the books, his sunglasses were no longer perched on his angular face, the dim light making his eyes a dark honeyed hue.

Anthony turned when he heard a clink at the doorway his fingers still brushing the spine of the book in front of him, Aziraphale was standing there looking at him, his head was tilted slightly to the right, and he was carrying the decorative board that he had worked on to prepare for the two of them. Anthony smiled at him and gazed back at Aziraphale as he stood in the doorway.

The air between them was warm and seemed to crackle like a lit fireplace. Anthony felt a lurch in his chest as the gentle glow of the pink lamps lit Aziraphale’s face in a sweet radiance that made Anthony think of every good thing in the world all at once.

Fireflies in the twilight, a gentle breeze wafting through a meadow, puppies and kittens rolling around in a basket, morning dew on flower petals, shooting stars streaking across the sky, butterflies flapping wildly in his stomach.

Aziraphale saw a sweet wobbly smile spread across Anthony’s face and he nearly dropped the charcuterie board as a zing reverberated through him making him weak at the knees. His mind went blank except for swirling sparklers crackling and burning, he felt a warmth wash over him as he felt a blush stain his plump cheeks.

He felt his heart begin to beat madly as his gaze took in all of Anthony standing there with a finger delicately tracing the spine on his first edition of Federico Garcia Lorca’s Romancero Gitano. His slender finger was tenderly trailing along the spine binding of quartered calf over marbled boards, Aziraphale felt a strong pang of jealousy rack through him aimed at the collectible.

One of the jars on the board clinked and it brought Aziraphale back to the moment and he blinked a couple times. “Oh, dear, I’m terribly sorry, I may have gone a bit overboard with this.” Aziraphale said with a slight chuckle with a nod toward the board.

Anthony smiled broadly and dropped his hand from the book on the shelf and he took a couple steps toward Aziraphale and held his hands out to take it from him, “This looks wonderful Aziraphale.” Anthony murmured as his gaze slowly rose from the charcuterie board to Aziraphale’s face, glowing faintly in the lights from the vintage lamps.

Aziraphale inhaled sharply in surprise when Anthony’s fingers brushed against his own as he took the charcuterie board from his own hands. His fingertips felt like they had been struck by lightning, and every molecule in his body felt heightened.

Anthony’s gaze caught Aziraphale’s as he gently took the board from him and their fingers brushed against one another. Anthony felt his heartbeat quicken, and a blush crashed over his own face to matched Aziraphale’s painted cheeks.

“I, er, just need to, get the wine. It’s Marchesi Antinori Tignanello, it’s made with Sangiovese and smaller parts Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc, I hope that’s alright.” Aziraphale stuttered.

“It sounds lovely.” Anthony said gently, as he sat the board on the coffee table Aziraphale went to the kitchen and pulled the wine and a couple of wine glasses out and carried them to the coffee table and handed Anthony a glass. Anthony held it up and Aziraphale carefully poured the dark red wine for him and smiled as Anthony brought the glass to his lips and tentatively took a sip.

“This is delicious.” Anthony said in a whisper.

Aziraphale smiled at him and poured himself a glass of wine, and stood upright, he gestured Anthony to take a seat first.

Anthony turned to sit on the couch, and then Aziraphale realized that the only other available seating was directly next to Anthony, he hadn’t cleared off enough space on the couch to leave a cushion between them, and the armchairs were still piled with books and repair kits.

Anthony looked up at him from the couch and raised an eyebrow at him with a playful smirk, his golden eyes sparkling in the light coming from the vintage lamps.

Aziraphale gulped as he edged around the coffee table, as he approached the available seating it felt like he was moving in slow motion as he mentally calculated if the spot was wide enough for him to sit there next to Anthony and not be encroaching on his personal space, or squeezing right next to him with every bulge and roll of his touching against Anthony’s side. He didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or disgusted. Aziraphale felt his nerves begin to heighten and his pulse begin to quicken as he shuffled around the table.

He glanced at Anthony, who was smiling at him broadly and he gestured for Aziraphale to sit down next to him. Aziraphale felt a wave of ease blanket him as he gazed at Anthony’s face.

He tentatively sat down next to Anthony, sinking into the comfortable couch cushion, Aziraphale sat up as straight as a board and held himself stiffly as his side brushed against Anthony’s side. A dual feeling of revulsion and euphoria wracked through Aziraphale as he realized that even unless he was leaning away from Anthony their sides would be brushing together as long as they stayed seated on the couch.

“Aziraphale?” Aziraphale heard Anthony murmur at his left side.

“Hmm?” Aziraphale hummed turning toward him.

“You don’t seem very comfortable, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Anthony asked gently, his voice delicate. His eyes wide and earnestly studying Aziraphale’s face, carefully searching it for any indication of discomfort.

“I, I’m quite alright, I just, I’m afraid, I don’t.” Aziraphale stuttered a bit, his hand tugging at his shirt. His uncle’s words from that morning echoing in his mind and he clenched his teeth slightly at the memory.

Aziraphale sighed closing his eyes a moment and then looked back up to Anthony’s angular face, his eyes illuminating like the stars on a dark night.

“I don’t want the seating situation to be causing any discomfort to you, and if you’d like I can clear off one of the armchairs and sit there. I don’t want to intrude on your space or, or make you feel any disgust or discombobulation from being so close together.” Aziraphale said in a rush to get the words out before he chickened out and didn’t say them.

Anthony felt a pang of pain in his chest for Aziraphale, his uncles must’ve done a real number on him that morning if he felt like Anthony would feel any disgust sitting so close to him.

Before Anthony could chicken out, he reached a hand toward Aziraphale’s hand that was clenched tightly on his plump thigh and carefully and tentatively placed his hand over Aziraphale’s fist.

“’Ziraphale,” He started, Aziraphale jumped slightly at the touch but relaxed his hand from a fist to a stiff flat palm against his thigh.

Aziraphale looked up at Anthony and exhaled slowly, releasing the breath that he didn’t realizing he was holding.

“Aziraphale, there’s nothing, you don’t do, you aren’t.” Anthony stuttered over his words.

He took a deep breath and sighed and then looked into Aziraphale’s magnificent blue eyes, “Aziraphale, there’s nothing about you, or that you do, that is disgusting, and if anyone thinks so they need to seriously evaluate their life. You are practically angelic the way you exist here in the world, always kind and doing kind things for people, and it’s like there’s nothing bad about you in any way and you are just so wonderful. Angelic and wonderful and if anyone else says any different they’re just a right foul git and don’t deserve your headspace.” Anthony paused, feeling his cheeks flame with a blush that burned deeply. He glanced away from Aziraphale for a moment before he burst into flames, he glanced back and took a breath.

“As for feeling discombobulated, that has more to do with being in the presence of an angel than anything.” Anthony said with shy smile aimed at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale felt his cheeks turn from a faint pink to a deep red, matching the red of Anthony’s hair. He wanted to cry and smile at the same time. Wanted to take Anthony and envelope him in a hug, his kind words reverberating through him.

He felt Anthony’s thumb brushing over the top of his hand gently, the warmth coming from that touch made him feel like he was a star about to explode into hundreds of thousands of star dust.

Anthony saw the wavering smile on Aziraphale’s face and saw the watering in his eyes as he told him those gentle words, he felt his heartbeat quicken as he carefully and slowly brushed the top of Aziraphale’s hand with his thumb. The deep dimples of his hands giving him gentle grooves and valleys to explore.

As Aziraphale looked back into Anthony’s eyes, Anthony gulped, as it struck him that he wanted to explore much more than just the dimples on an angel’s hand.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just pining, sweet delicious pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? Two chapters in two days? Oh yes!

They sat there together, Anthony stroking Aziraphale’s knuckles, for an undetermined amount of time. They gazed at each other shyly as this delicate intimate act continued.

Aziraphale was afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, afraid that it would break the spell that he was falling under.

Anthony was afraid that if he stopped stroking Aziraphale’s knuckles that he may never get another opportunity like this, he was afraid if he stopped that this trance of calmness, of serenity, would never return. That if he stopped, he would have to continue on with his uncle’s orders, with The Plan, and then everything, all of this, Aziraphale, would be lost from him.

Anthony felt a jagged pain go through him as the thoughts of his uncle’s orders and his visit that morning. Something must have flashed in his eyes because Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with concern.

“Is everything okay?” Aziraphale asked him in a whispered tone, still not wanting to break the spell.

Anthony gulped, here was a moment, he could tell Aziraphale everything, before things went too far with his uncle’s plan, or before he fell too hard for the sweet soft baker. He could tell him everything before they both got incredibly hurt.

Anthony slowly looked up to Aziraphale’s face, and the beautiful shining eyes looked back at him wide with a hint of worry.

Anthony sighed gently, “Yeah angel, everything is okay, just thinking of how nice this is. The shark cat tour tree board you made, sitting here spending time with you, the calm aura of your flat. It’s nice, I’m having a nice time here with you.” He murmured gently, running his thumb over Aziraphale’s knuckles again, treasuring the soft warmth they radiated.

At the new nickname Aziraphale blushed, his cheeks flushing with warmth and turned a delightful shade of pink.

“Ah, speaking of the charcuterie board, we should probably get started on it, that way nothing spoils, wouldn’t want the jams to congeal.” Aziraphale said gently looking shyly up at Anthony.

Anthony smiled and nodded his head, regrettably he removed his hand from the top of Aziraphale’s hand and reached toward the charcuterie board, his fingers twittered over the board, not sure where to start, the spread was gorgeous, and everything looked delectable.

Aziraphale chuckled next to him, “Would you like a recommendation over where to start? Or would you like to just dive in?” He asked smirking at Anthony.

Anthony chuckled and reached for a cracker and the small spoon to spread some jam over it, he paused a moment, not sure he could identify them all.

Aziraphale chuckled again and pointed at each item on the charcuterie board and named it for Anthony, “That one is fig jelly, this one is marionberry habanero pepper jelly, and course ground mustard. As you can tell these as pistachios and almonds, then along the board there is Genoa Salame, Prosciutto, strawberries, cherry tomatoes, Granny Smith apple, green grapes, here is mozzarella balls, cubed habanero pepper cheese, and this one is one of the cheeses you surprised me with from the farmer’s market.” Aziraphale said blushing gesturing at the heart shaped soft cheese on the board.

Anthony felt his eyes widen slightly as he realized that one of the cheeses he offhandedly bought Aziraphale was in the shape of a heart. He hadn’t realized that when he bought it, he wasn’t paying close attention toward the end of the outing at the farmer’s market. He was slightly embarrassed over what implications or assumptions Aziraphale might have gotten from the heart shaped dairy product.

Anthony glanced at Aziraphale who was looking at him with his head tilted to the side again. He looked so sweetly earnest; Anthony couldn’t help but smile at him. Anthony gave a half grin and he reached for the marionberry jelly to coat one side of his cracker with.

Aziraphale smiled and he grabbed a couple cubes of the habanero pepper cheese and a strawberry slice. He delicately ate the finger food while Anthony crunched his cracker, seemingly fine with the spiciness of the marionberry jelly.

“This is really good, where do you find all this interesting food? This spread, the creperie, you seem to find good edibles everywhere.” Anthony asked smiling between bites of jam smeared cracker.

“Well the jams and jellies, as well as the fruits are from my family’s farm, we recently started farming honey as well, would you like me to add that to the board? I can get some real…” He started standing as he spoke.

“No, no, Aziraphale,” Anthony protested grabbing Aziraphale’s hand to keep him from leaving his side.

Aziraphale looked down at Anthony’s hand encircling his own.

“You don’t have to get more for the board, it is lovely in itself, but I’m enjoying your company most of all.” Anthony admitted shyly, his gaze flitting from Aziraphale’s face, to their hands, and back up to his eyes.

Aziraphale blushed for the hundredth time that evening and sat back down, more comfortably than he sat down the first time. He was more relaxed next to Anthony. Aziraphale was less worried about Anthony feeling disgusted towards him now. He seemed to have no ill feelings toward him at all in fact.

Anthony kept his hand encircled in Aziraphale’s as he sat back on the couch, his posture was more relaxed than he was before. His aura even hummed with content; he was close enough that Anthony’s outer thigh was gently pressing against Aziraphale’s. Close enough that the side of Aziraphale’s belly was brushing against Anthony’s side. Close enough that their arms were touching until they blossomed into Anthony’s hand being wrapped around Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale let out a contended sigh as his posture relaxed from his former ramrod straightness. He felt his heart thrumming in his chest cavity like a colony of hummingbirds as he bathed in the feeling of Anthony’s hand holding his. His long slender fingers brushing the tips of his own fingers, the palm of his hand warm on top of his. He wanted nothing more than to entwine his fingers with Anthony’s, let his plump fingers knot with his slender ones. But he was afraid to entwine them together in case Anthony’s mind wasn’t thinking in the same direction that Aziraphale’s was.

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to twine their fingers together and wrap Anthony’s willowy hand in his, warm it, encapsulate it, bring it to his lips so he could kiss each peaked knuckle. He wanted to lean against Anthony’s side and delicately plant kisses on his cheek, his lips.

Aziraphale shook his head a moment, wanting to get back in the moment of what they were currently doing, and out of his own head. If he stayed there too long, he would think that Anthony wanted a relationship with him that was more than colleagues, more than friends. And he would be crushed if he made that assumption and he was wrong.

Anthony gulped, as he looked at his hand that was still clutching Aziraphale’s. He didn’t want to let go; it was so warm and soothing. He looked up at Aziraphale, he imagined that any other part of him that he had the gift to touch would be just as warm and soothing as his hand. He wanted to tuck his blonde curls back, look in his eyes, and kiss him. He wanted to bury his face in his soft wide chest, wanted to wrap his long arms around him and hold him tightly.

His uncle’s voice creeped in through the cracks of his brain, and he gave his head an slight shake, try and get those thoughts away from this happy evening after such a shitty day.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony glanced back to Aziraphale’s face; concern was painted on it.

“Sorry, bad thoughts coming in, had to shake them out.” Anthony said with a forced laugh

Aziraphale smiled sadly, “Yes I know how that goes, well, let’s try and keep the bad thoughts at bay and enjoy this spread.”

They moved their conjoined hands simultaneously, Aziraphale using his hand to bring his glass of wine to his lips, and Anthony using his to grab a cherry tomato to pop into his mouth.

As they enjoyed the spread of the board they sat in a comfortable silence, Aziraphale exuberating a few light noises of pleasure from the food on his palate. Anthony clinking the wine bottle against his glass for another refill.

“How, how many glasses of wine ‘ave we ‘ad now? The bottle’s almost gone.” Anthony exclaimed to Aziraphale as he refilled their glasses for the third, or fourth, fifth? Time each. Time was passing as they had nothing left on the board but crumbs and blots of jams on it.

“Well con-consi-consider-considering, that I had to get a sec-second bottle, I’d say we’ve each had quite a lot of wine.” Aziraphale replied with a giggle.

“Good stuff so ‘s worth the headache we’ll ‘ave in the morning.” Anthony chuckled plopping back on the couch after pouring them each a refill, his long limbs sprawling out as if he was a sticky had that someone THWACKED to a wall and let crawl down to the floor.

One of his legs was halfway propped on Aziraphale’s lap as he continued his point, “Muh point is, muh point, point is, daffodils, that’s muh point.” Anthony said smugly looking at Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale laughed, “What about daffodils? How could daffodils possibly be a bad omen?” he argued leaning back and propping his arm on the back of the couch, angling himself to look at Anthony better.

“If someone only gives someone else a single daffodil, that means bad luck is on the horizon for that person getting the single daffodil. But if you give someone a whole lot of daffodils then it means that the person getting them will have happiness.” Anthony said gesturing wildly.

Aziraphale chuckled as he watched how passionate Anthony was getting over flowers.

“There was a movie I watched as a kid, don’t remember much of it, but I remember the one scene in it. This man was trying to court this girl and keep her from marrying a real twat. His last grand gesture to win her heart was, when she woke up one morning and looked out the window. He was standing waiting for her in a field of daffodils, which were her favorite flower. Got em all from miles and miles around just for her. I always said I’d do the same stunt if I had to. Give someone a whole greenhouse, a whole field of flowers, any flower they wanted, just to show them how much I utterly adored them.” Anthony said in an excited whirl of smiles.

He turned to Aziraphale, “Wot’s your favorite flower then angel?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Aziraphale blushed deeply, connecting the question with the last statement that Anthony had made about showing someone how much they adored them.

“I love Marigolds, their color,” Aziraphale paused catching Anthony’s eyes, “their color makes them look divine. Though their hue isn’t quite right.” He murmured losing himself in Anthony’s eyes.

Anthony gulped and a smile danced across his lips, “Marigolds eh?” He asked, “Thought you may be the type to like hyacinths or peonies. Or begonias, they, they match the shade of your blush quite well, always thought of them when I see you blush.” Anthony admitted blushing himself as he spoke.

“Oh.” Aziraphale placed a hand over his heart. These words that they were uttering to each other were getting intimate in a way that he had never experienced.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and closed his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart, he took a breath, then opened his eyes again.

“Flowers seem to be a lovely passion of yours.” Aziraphale mused as he took another sip of wine.

Anthony flashed a smile at Aziraphale, “’S not my only passion, I have loads of passions, all sorts, Passionate Pete they call me in some parts of London.” Anthony blabbered stretching his arms wide.

“What other passions do you hold close to your heart?” Aziraphale murmured to him, his blue eyes inquisitive and sparkling.

Anthony gulped a couple of times, one passion he had, that was growing even more, was his adoration of the man next to him. He wanted to reach up and cup his face in his hands and kiss him.

“Well, the Bentley, is one.” Anthony said straightening his slouch on the couch up a bit.

“I like to bake and decorate cakes when I get the chance.” He said dropping his feet to the floor and putting his wine glass on the coffee table.

“Go on.” Aziraphale nodded encouragingly in a hushed tone, turning to face Anthony more, dipping his head down to be at the same level, placing his own wine glass down.

“The stars, I love those stars in the sky, used to drag a telescope out every night to look at ‘em.” Anthony murmured gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes.

“The stars are quite beautiful, when they’re out.” Aziraphale admitted with a sigh.

Anthony tentatively reached his hand to Aziraphale’s face and cupped it, tracing his cheek with his thumb, his gaze locking with Aziraphale’s, “Out of all those stars shining in the sky, your eyes beat them all. They’re so kind, and soulful, I‘ve never seen such eyes, sparkling like the cosmos, shimmering like the heavens, which would be fitting for an angel.” Anthony whispered gently.

Aziraphale took in a sharp breath, Anthony’s hand cupping his plump cheek, was a burning warmth that spread from his face and burned a path to his toes.

“Aziraphale,” Anthony started gently, carefully treading the waters.

“Anthony.” Aziraphale replied in a breathy whisper.

Anthony’s eyes searched Aziraphale’s face, searching for something that said he didn’t want him to go further. But Aziraphale’s wide plump face was turned to him like a sunflower seeking the rising sun, his eyes, those damn beautiful blue eyes, were sparkling and making his heart ache.

“Aziraphale, can I, can I kiss you?” Anthony asked in a whisper.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale started, he reached a plump hand up and rested it on the hand that Anthony held Aziraphale’s face with.

“I’m going to have to decline your request.” Aziraphale said, his face breaking.

Anthony felt his face flame with embarrassment, burn with the rejection stupid stupid stupid, why would this beautiful man want to kiss him? What a dumb fuck he was for thinking Aziraphale would be any more than just a friend, be any more than just a colleague at the bakery. Oh fuck the bakery, his uncle. Shit shit shit! Stupid Stupid Stupid! These thoughts stampeded through Anthony’s mind and he began to pull his hand away, but Aziraphale’s plump hand on top held it closely in place.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to.” Aziraphale explained slowly, gently in a whisper.

Anthony’s brow furrowed with confusion, but he remained silent so Aziraphale could continue.

“I don’t, I don’t want the wine, to be, to be the thing making you want to kiss me, making you kiss me. I would treasure it of course if you were to kiss me. B-but, I don’t want alcohol to be a deciding factor in why you’re kissing me.” Aziraphale explained with a stutter, his eyes brimming with tears, his lips trembling. Anthony wanted to kiss him all the more to make the sadness painted on his face disappear.

Anthony’s eyes widened once he realized what Aziraphale had said, “Wot you think I only want to kiss you because I’m a lil tipsy?” Anthony demanded surprised and pleased at the response Aziraphale gave to his request.

“Well…” Aziraphale said trailing off, not wanting to elaborate on his thoughts.

“Aziraphale, I promise that the wine has nothing to do with me wanting to kiss you. This attempt being shot down has sobered me up if anything. But, because you are saying no, I won’t kiss you. You don’t need to explain why you’re refusing the attempt at all. But,” Anthony paused smiling up at Aziraphale, “if the wine is the only factor in rejecting my request,” He paused as Aziraphale nodded and kept his gaze down.

“Then I promise, the next time I want to kiss you, I won’t have a single drop to drink, hopefully nor will you. I don’t want alcohol to be a deciding factor in you wanting to kiss me either.” Anthony finished, brushing Aziraphale’s plump cheek with his thumb again carefully.

Aziraphale tittered a laugh, “Of course it’s not the only reason I want to kiss you, you silly man.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony chuckled, “We will see what your sober thoughts say once the wine wears off angel.” He murmured tipping his head forward and touching his forehead to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale felt his heart twitter with the sweet gesture that Anthony was doing, with him respecting his refusal and understanding his reasons. He couldn’t think of a time when he felt this way before ever in his life.

Anthony felt Aziraphale shifting beneath his touch and then felt Aziraphale’s free plump hand reaching up and cupping his haggard cheek in his hand, the lightning that struck through him at the gentle soft touch of the thumb tracing his cheekbone made him feel like he had died and was on his way to heaven.

They sat like that, cupping each other’s faces touching foreheads, for several moments, moments that seemed to stretch late into the night. Long enough that the windows revealed the midnight skies with the few twinkling stars that were visible.

“It’s getting late dear; you should go home and get some sleep.” Aziraphale said nudging Anthony’s forehead ever so gently with his own.

Anthony gave a small huff as a rebuke to Aziraphale’s suggestion, making Aziraphale giggle.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll get an uber to pick me up to be sure I don’t wrap the Bentley around a pole.” Anthony said pulling away from Aziraphale and reaching for his phone, touching and flicking a few things on the screen as Aziraphale watched with a moony smile on his face.

“Right, the uber will be here in less than ten. Anthony stood up from the couch, and nearly fell back down. His equilibrium mixing with the vertical momentum.

“Be careful dear, oh let me walk you downstairs, make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” Aziraphale tutted as he rose next to Anthony carefully.

Anthony smiled; he wasn’t going to protest this development, he snatched his sunglasses and made sure he had his keys and phone and followed Aziraphale.

Aziraphale led Anthony out of the flat and down to the storefront of the bakery where he could watch the street and not be looming in an alley.

“The Bentley will be safe here tonight, it’s all locked up, and practically no one comes around this way this time of night.” Aziraphale said reassuring Anthony as he craned his neck.

Anthony flashed him a smile, “They better not because I haven’t gotten to take you on a ride yet. How about tomorrow after you close? After we close? Would that be alright?” Anthony asked earnestly.

Aziraphale hesitated before answering remembering the seatbelt incident, “I think that would be more than alright, we would just have to be careful with the seatbelt issue.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony’s smile beamed at Aziraphale, washing away any troubles that he was thinking of.

A red jeep parked in front of the bakery and Anthony’s phone rang, he answered it and held it to his ear, “Be right out.”

He turned to Aziraphale and looked down at him, his eyes swimming with adoration and longing.

“C-could I give you a hug goodbye?” Anthony choked out the question, his cheeks flaming, he really wanted to kiss Aziraphale, but he had promised.

Aziraphale nodded in response.

Anthony took a small step forward and stretched his arms out, letting them coil around Aziraphale, sinking into his plush wide form. Aziraphale wrapped his thick strong arms around Anthony and squeezed him back, burying his face in his delicate chest.

“Til tomorrow angel.” Anthony murmured into the halo of blonde curls that adorned Aziraphale’s head.

“Til tomorrow.” Aziraphale whispered in agreement.

The Uber outside gave a sharp honk, which is what finally tore their embrace apart. Aziraphale unlocked and opened the front door for Anthony who walked through it in two steps and was at the vehicle hailed to pick him up.

He turned before getting into the jeep and smiled at Aziraphale giving him a wave goodbye. Aziraphale stood in the open doorway waving until Anthony had ridden off into the night.

With a sigh Aziraphale pulled the door shut tightly and locked it up before heading back up the stairs to get some sleep before he had to start baking for tomorrow’s customers. He took the board and glasses to the kitchen and laid them in the sink, and then shuffled off to bed. As he began to fall asleep, he smiled thinking of the beautiful red-haired man who had wandered into his shop one day.

Anthony leaned his back against the cool seats of the jeep and let out a mixed sigh, he was extremely happy, but now that he was not with Aziraphale, that Aziraphale wasn’t there, the bad thoughts began flooding his mind again. His uncle, the plan, his conflicting feelings for it all.

Once he reached his flat, he went upstairs, checked the plants, and then crawled into the bed, clothes and all. He buried his face in his pillows, their softness no where near as soft as the hug he had gotten from Aziraphale. He took in a deep breath and began to cry. He cried gentle tears until he succumbed to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They each think the other was just drunk flirting because they're idiots .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some internalized fatphobia - ish. Poor Aziraphale just needs some body positivity going on.  
> Crowley is an anxious mess, he needs some therapy, or to just punt his family off a cliff.

Ch. 19

The next morning came too soon and the ringing of the alarm clock made Aziraphale groan and whack at the ringing pinging bells until they silenced.

He dragged himself out of bed and went into the kitchen to start a pot of tea while he took a quick icy shower to wake himself up with.

As he took a shower, he began to remember the events from last night, and groaned at his previous actions, different emotions flooded through him as he replayed the conversations between him and Anthony in the early morning hours.

He felt embarrassed and somewhat foolish for declining the kiss that Anthony had offered, he wanted nothing more than to be kissed by him, by his sweet tender lips that spoke such sweet words. Laced with honey, nectar, and sugar, his lips that formed the most sincere and glorious smile that Aziraphale had ever laid witness to. He shook his head and let the cold water pour from the shower head onto his face until he felt awake enough to greet the day.

As Aziraphale looked in the mirror at himself he looked at his reflection hard, he noted that he needed a shave, that he had a slight stubble. He made a note to make an appointment with his barber, since he didn’t like shaving himself, to be honest he had never been taught, and enjoyed the experience of an old-fashioned straight blade razor shave. Prickly dark blonde hairs scratched at his fingers as he stroked his chin. He frowned as his fingertips grazed along the soft flesh of his double chin.

His eyes seemed to be dripping with exhaustion and he felt like he was showing more of his age, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes looked more pronounced than usual, and he now had some dark circles under his eyes from getting so little sleep the night before.

He sighed and then continued to take in his appearance. He ran a hand along his plush soft chest and down his wide fat stomach, trying not to grimace at the reflection looking back at him. After all this was his body, the one that had been bestowed upon him, and he was rather comfortable in it, for the most part, when he was alone. When he was alone, he was very comfortable with himself, but at times, especially lately around others such as his uncle, he wanted to shrink. Wanted to be smaller, wanted to be different. More acceptable, by whose standards he was unsure, but he would be more acceptable.

He gently traced the stretch marks that decorated his belly and chest. The older ones were light in color, an alabaster shade against his peach skin. There were a couple newer ones that were a mauve in shade, Aziraphale trailed a finger along the jagged fresh mark and drifted off into his head for a moment. His uncle’s words flitting through his mind, cruelly circling him again and again. Anthony’s reassurances began to whisper over them, getting louder and louder, trying to drown out the viciousness of his uncle, to sooth the scars in his mind. He pulled himself out of his head and looked away from the mirror and went to his room and grabbed a lightweight green sweater and some comfortable pants and ventured into the kitchen to have his tea before heading downstairs to the bakery.

Too soon after falling asleep Anthony’s phone woke him up with the ringing buzzing alarm. He blindly felt for it and tapped at the screen hoping his fingertip made contact with the right part of the screen. After several unsuccessful attempts and the alarm still clanging loudly, he heaved a sigh and rolled closer to the phone and swiped it off. He held it in his hand a moment, resting it against his chest. His eyelids felt like lead bricks and he felt like he had been dipped in molasses the night before. He did not want to move. His blankets were warm and soft, the warmth was so hypnotic, keeping him wrapped up in a cloud of down filled fabric. He was curled around a pillow in the blankets that he had been clutching to his chest before he had grabbed the phone. The soft roundness of the pillow comforting him in the night as he drifted off to sleep thoughts of Aziraphale dancing through his mind. He smiled to himself as he imagined running his spindly fingers through the blonde curls that decorated Aziraphale’s head, the blush that would appear on Aziraphale’s face as he did this, his sweet round face glowing.

The phone alarm began to clang and ring jarring Anthony out of the dozing he was beginning to do. He exclaimed a curse and with a scowl he inelegantly dislodged himself from the blankets and comforter and plopped onto the floor with a thud.

He squinted his eyes at the phone as he turned off the remaining alarms and rose off the floor as he checked to see if he had any new voicemails. He had a voicemail from Bee, but there was no way he was opening that jar of fun so early in the morning. He plugged the phone in to charge and climbed into the shower to wake himself up.

While he was in the shower, he felt mortified as he remembered the conversations from the night before. How could he have called Aziraphale Angel? Telling him that his eyes are like stars, his blush is like peonies? For fuck all’s sake he practically proclaimed his love to the man with sonnets and poetry, no wonder Aziraphale hadn’t wanted him to kiss him, he was blathering on like a sap. The wine from last night pounding in his head now as a reminder of the night.

Pound ‘You’re an idiot.’

Pound ‘Of course he doesn’t want you to kiss him.’

Pound ‘You made a fool of yourself.’

Pound ‘You made an arse out of yourself.’

Pound ‘He won’t want anything to do with you.’

Pound ‘He doesn’t want you.’

Anthony groaned in a prolonged exposure of mortification until the groan turned into a short eruption of a scream. He dragged his hands over his face and screamed into his hands as they covered his mouth, as the water streamed onto his head and dripped down his face, down his back, down his chest.

He took in a deep breath and clambered out of the shower, shutting it off as he wrapped a towel around his waist before he broke down and wouldn’t be able to do anything for the day. He should’ve just gotten the shower chair he had and sat to shower so he wouldn’t be so overwhelmed first thing after drinking. But no, he forgot about it.

He glared at the chair ruefully in passing as he grabbed his leave in conditioners and curl treatments and began working them through his hair with his fingers. He avoided his gaze in the mirror as he did this, not wanting to see actual evidence of his complete ineptitude, his complete dumbassery, the evidence of the drinking last night.

He left the creams in his hair while he went to the kitchen and popped a K-cup into the coffeemaker, getting the coffee cup ready. He would usually just grab one on the way to the bakery, but he definitely needed an extra caffeine boost this morning as well.

As the coffee began to brew, he went back to the bathroom and put his eyedrops in his eyes and tied his hair up into a half bun. As he made sure his hair wasn’t lopsided or any hairs weren’t in place, his gaze drifted down to his face. He dropped his hands from his hair and looked at his reflection.

His eyes were haggard, dark circles had bruised themselves onto him from the little sleep he got last night. His spine was bent and slouching, making his shoulders droop toward the floor. He looked at himself with a grimace, his hunger-panged frame reedy and brittle, he touched the side of his neck and trailed his fingertips down. Dancing over his collar bone, the dip of a concave to his thin chest, he could feel just under his skin the curve of his rib cage. His fingertips grazed his hip bone through his towel, and he dropped his arm down. A few visible veins danced along the gangling limb as it hung down at his side.

His chest rose as he took in a deep breath and released it slowly, the bad voices in his head were beginning to swim around in his mind, and the last thing he needed this morning was a panic attack before seeing Aziraphale, especially after last night. He closed his eyes and felt his way out of the bathroom, away from the mirror. He tried to ignore his body as he grabbed a black and gray striped t-shirt and a pair of black jeans and pulled them on.

Anthony went to his plants and looked at them carefully, he rotated them all 180 degrees so they would get sun on every side, and then he gave them all some water, and added a bit of soil nutrients to Jasper’s pot before going to the kitchen and downing the coffee that was waiting for him.

As he drank the coffee he flicked through his phone, he ordered an Uber to come and pick him up and take him back to Aziraphale’s this morning since he had left the Bentley at the bakery. Responsible last night, but now it’s rather annoying.

Waiting for the Uber he played Bee’s voicemail, now that he was calmer than he had been when he first saw the notification.

“Crowley, come to Lucy’s today, we have much to discuss.” Short and to the point, though he didn’t know what Bee would want to talk with him about. His uncle had gotten his point across yesterday about his “duty”.

With that pang of pain reminding him of what a shit person he was, the Uber app alerted him that his ride was here. He locked up the flat and went down to head to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale worked the knife carefully to carve and pit the red plums that he had pulled out to bake into a tart today. He had already prepared the other premeditated ingredients and had the puff pastry that he had sliced into squares waiting on the counter top, had the blackberries drying in the sink with the colander, had the lemons out ready to zest, the thyme out ready to chop, and had a small saucepan of butter melting on the stovetop. The rest of the ingredients were splayed over the counter so he wouldn’t have to forage for them later.

A knock at the back door made his ears perk up, and a smile quirk onto his face. He placed the plums and knife on the counter and wiped his hands on his apron. Opening the door, he looked up to see Anthony’s dashing face looking down at him, a crooked smile dancing across his lips.

Anthony stood there a moment taking in the utter waves of warmth that Aziraphale was giving off when he opened the door. Smiling broadly up at Anthony, the soft light coming from the kitchen making his golden curls made him look even more angelic. Anthony wanted to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s soft round form and just hold him. Without thinking he held his arms up as if to wrap Aziraphale in a hug, but he hesitated. He didn’t know if it would be a wanted display of affection.

Aziraphale looked up at Anthony, unable to help the grin from spreading over his face when he laid eyes on the gorgeous man that stood before him. Anthony had his sunglasses on, but Aziraphale could feel his gaze like a caress along his cheek.

Anthony held up his arms a moment, and a blush spread across his face and he threaded his lower lip between his teeth.

“Good morning Anthony.” Aziraphale said warmly, opening the door wider so Anthony could come in.

“Morning ‘Ziraphale.” Anthony said with a nod as he walked int the doorway.

Aziraphale closed the door and headed back to the stovetop and checked the butter that was melting in the saucepan.

“How’d you get on this morning?” Aziraphale asked Anthony as he gave the butter a stir. Glancing away from the saucepan and to Anthony who was taking in the array of ingredients on the countertop.

“Didn’t get nearly enough sleep, I see the Bentley survived the night.” Anthony muttered, taking in the sight of the half bowl of untouched plums and the half bowl of sliced and peeled plums and grabbing a knife in his hands to help slice and pit.

Aziraphale stood there wordlessly for a moment, contemplating on what, if anything he should say about last night, their talks and their actions. He turned off the heat for the butter and pulled up a stool and sat down next to Anthony and continued to slice and pit the plums.

After a few long moments of slicing in silence Aziraphale glanced up to Anthony, “Would you like any tea? I could make us up a fresh cup, I had a slight headache this morning and it helped it subside.” Aziraphale said hopefully.

Anthony paused a moment in slicing the plums, “No thank you. I had some coffee before leaving the flat. If I had the Bentley, I would’ve grabbed us something from that café. But, you know.” Anthony said, pink staining his cheeks again.

Aziraphale nodded and they continued to slice the plums into small segments. The silence was thick in the air, Aziraphale could feel his stomach fluttering and his heartbeat quickening. He didn’t know whether he should bring up last night, or if he should wait for Anthony to say something. He didn’t want to make Anthony uncomfortable, especially if he had forgotten what he had said, about what they had done, about what they had proclaimed to each other. But he didn’t want to leave words unsaid if Anthony was waiting for him to start talking.

Anthony felt like the hairs on the back of his neck were standing stiff on end, his shoulders were hunched and practically at his ears as he ducked his head. He didn’t know where to start, didn’t know whether to apologize for last night, or to pretend it didn’t happen, or pick up where he left off. Anthony felt the block of lead in his stomach as flashes of Bee and his uncle went through his head. He felt nauseous and sick at the amount of guilt he was feeling.

“I plan on making a few easy things today, plum tarts with honey and black pepper, blackberry lemon muffins, and cinnamon sugar topped cardamom tea cakes.” Aziraphale said lightly trying to keep the silence from becoming deafening.

“Those sound nice.” Anthony replied nonchalantly.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony a moment, wishing his tongue was loose enough to speak to him freely like last night. He wanted Anthony to talk to him, but he didn’t want to drag conversation out of him. That was no way to speak to one another. He also didn’t want to sit in thick heavy silence that was on the verge of drowning him.

He sighed and turned his attention back to the plums and soon enough without conversation and without actions except the slicing between the two of them, the large bowl of plums had been sliced and pitted.

“Um, what, what would you like me to do next?” Anthony asked, licking his lips and turning to Aziraphale, he felt more nervous today than he did his first day helping at the bakery.

“If you’d like, you can start putting the plum slices on the puff pastry squares that are on those baking sheets. I’ve already pierced the dough with a fork, so it just needs the plums and sugar and pepper before being ready to bake.” Aziraphale said, his tone a bit dull, heavy with disappointments blooming in his chest.

Anthony nodded and stood, taking the bowl of plums over to the baking sheets that were lining one of the counter tops.

Aziraphale watched as Anthony as he carefully pierced the plum slices with a fork and began to arrange them on the squares of puff pastry. He was graceful in his movements, but also stiff as if he were on edge.

Aziraphale grabbed several muffin tins and lined them with paper liners, and then he turned his attention to the dry ingredients spread out on the counter.

As Anthony carefully placed the plums on the puff pastry squares, he watched Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye. He felt a twinge go through his chest as he saw Aziraphale stand there a moment looking at him, his eyes wide and his hands clasping and unclasping in front of his belly before going and grabbing some muffin tins.

Anthony bit his lip again as he turned his attention back to the assembling of the tarts. He arranged the plum slices along the puff pastry squares carefully, trying to devote all of his attention to doing this task. He didn’t want to crack, and he was so close to cracking and spilling out everything that he was holding back. He bit his lower lip hard, the pain grounding him, making him focus on the tarts, keeping his mind from spiraling to last night, to Aziraphale, to the task.

Aziraphale mixed the flour, cake flour, baking powder, salt, some of the melted butter, and baking soda in a bowl together until the batter was creamy. He added the sugar and continued to beat the batter for several minutes. He placed that bowl aside and began to whisk the eggs and vanilla extract into a small bowl and then began to blend that into the bigger bowl. He began to beat the batter to get it to the perfect consistency to use, as he beat it, he tried to hold back all the emotions that were swirling in his head. He wanted to say something, anything to Anthony. Even if he just told him to forget about last night, about any admissions they had spoken, about anything that made him uncomfortable, that he didn’t care if he hadn’t really wanted to kiss him last night, that is was just drunk words spoken aloud, so long as they could continue to at least be cordial colleagues. Aziraphale squeezed his eyes closed trying to will the small cracks of pain in his heart to disperse.

Once the batter was light and fluffy, he added some buttermilk and grabbed the lemons to zest into the mixture. As he scraped the fruit against the zester, he pressed harder and harder, the chunks becoming thicker than just a zest. He took in a shaky breath and stilled his hands a moment, gathering himself together. He mixed all the bowls together and then began folding the blackberries and thyme into the mixture gently crushing the berries slightly.

Anthony’s ears perked as Aziraphale mixed his batters together, every little sound he uttered made Anthony’s heart clench. He watched as Aziraphale began spooning the batter into the muffin tins he had prepped and placed them into the oven. He was very aware when Aziraphale began to head over to where he stood with the bowl of plums in one hand and the fork in the other. He had run out of plum slices a few minutes ago and had been unable to make himself move from his spot.

“The tarts look very nice Anthony; we just need to sprinkle the sugar and pepper and then they’ll be ready to bake. Then adding the honey and salt once they are through of course.” Aziraphale said softly at Anthony’s side, his hands clasped together behind his back.

Anthony gulped and nodded as Aziraphale turned and grabbed the bag of sugar from the counter, he wordlessly reached into the bag and scooped a pinch up in his hand and sprinkled it along the tart sheets.

Anthony followed Aziraphale’s lead and reached his hand into the bag of sugar as well, carefully dusting the tarts with just enough sugar to be construed as a dessert pastry. He wasn’t paying attention to his hand, just the tarts, very aware of Aziraphale standing next to him, his broad form filling the void that had been next to him, filling his mind, his heart.

As he reached his hand into the bag of sugar his fingers brushed against something that wasn’t sugar. Anthony jerked his hand out of the bag, knocking it out of Aziraphale’s hand and spilling it onto the floor.

“Fuck!” Anthony exclaimed reaching his hands up and pulling at his hair, ‘have to stay grounded have to stay here.’

Aziraphale furrowed his brows and looked at Anthony, who was in clear distress, “Anthony, it is, it is quite alright. I’ll just get the broom and another bag of sugar. It’s no trouble.” Aziraphale murmured turning towards the storage pantry and heading to get a backup bag of sugar.

Anthony stood there looking down at the spilled sugar, and then his eyes went up following Aziraphale into the pantry.

He took several deep breaths and tried to calm his nerves before Aziraphale came back.

He crouched down and picked up the sugar bag and stood upright as Aziraphale came back with the new bag and the broom.

“’Ziraphale,” Anthony started.

Aziraphale looked up at Anthony, a question in his eyes.

“Can, can we talk a moment?” Anthony asked, nodding to the stools.

Aziraphale placed the new bag of sugar down and leaned the broom against the counter and followed Anthony to the stools.

Aziraphale sat next to Anthony and looked at him as he sat down, Anthony rested his elbows on the counter and pushed his sunglasses up and ran his hands down his face and sighed.

Aziraphale felt sympathetic and looked down at his hands which were fiddling at his middle, and spoke hesitantly his voice full of nerves, “Anthony, everything is quite alright, I know things last night, that we had both been drinking quite a lot. I know that sometimes inhibitions are dropped after a few drinks, and since we both had enough to probably fill a liquor store, I know that some of the things you said and did were just the wine talking. I do not take it personally in the slightest. I would prefer it not get in the way of our colleagueship, or friendship for that matter.” He paused and took a deep breath, “If it would make it easier on you we can move along and forget last night ever happened, and if that doesn’t make it easier, then, then maybe taking some time off away from me would help?” He glanced up at Anthony, whose mouth was hanging open like a broken nutcracker’s.

Aziraphale looked back down at his hands and knotted and unknotted his fingers, his nerves spiking high like someone who had just gone cliff diving for the first time.

Anthony heard the words that Aziraphale was speaking, and was shocked, he thought that he didn’t mean anything from last night, thought that he was just a flirtatious drunk.

Anthony reached his hand over to Aziraphale’s fidgeting ones and gently laid his hand atop Aziraphale’s.

Surprised Aziraphale looked up at Anthony, his eyes widening with surprise.

“Aziraphale,” Anthony said, all thoughts escaping his mind when he met those ethereal blue eyes.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, “Aziraphale, the wine didn’t make me say or do anything last night that I didn’t already want to say or do. It helped not be such a wreck around you I admit.” He paused, brushing a long thumb across Aziraphale’s soft knuckles.

“But since the moment I set eyes on you, I’ve been very f-fond of you, thought that you were the loveliest person I had ever laid eyes on. With heavenly star-studded eyes, a-and flower hued cheeks.”  
He paused biting his lower lip, “And s-since the moment I started working with you, I thought you were the kindest person I could ever meet in life. Thought that, if there were people like you in creation, that the world could maybe be a good place.”

Aziraphale inhaled sharply at Anthony’s admission and his lips parted to speak.

“A-and, I’ve wanted to k-kiss you, for quite a long time. B-but I’ve been to cowardly t-to ask for one without wine. S-so, it wasn’t j-just because of the wine, that I wanted to, to kiss you.” He finished looking up at Aziraphale’s cherubic face.

Aziraphale’s eyes were shining brightly, watery with tears, and his mouth was pulled into a shaky smile, his brows peaked earnestly, and his cheeks blushing like fully bloomed begonias. The air left Anthony’s lungs as his eyes searched over Aziraphale’s face, taking in every little sparkling curve.

“I, too, have been rather fond of you as well. Such a dashing soulful dear, the sweetness and poetry you hold in your heart making every day with you better than the last one. And I have also, been wanting to, to, to kiss you, for quite some time, but I would have never imagined that you would, also want that, from, from me.” He admitted his hands shaking slightly under Anthony’s touch, his nerves pulling his heart in every direction, and the butterflies in his stomach wild and unfathomable. 

Anthony barked a laugh, nerves and butterflies echoing in the timbres of the laughter, “Why on earth wouldn’t you think I would want to kiss you? A kiss from you? You’re so clever, how could someone as clever as you be so stupid?” He asked smiling broadly to show that he didn’t intend it as an insult, didn’t want to prick Aziraphale with any barbs of hurt, but that he was so wildly happy and relieved that Aziraphale felt the same way that his mouth was working without his mind.

Aziraphale chuckled, “I forgive you.” He said placing one hand on top of Anthony’s which was still holding his.

They sat there, mooning over each other, time slowing, just gazing at each other. It felt like a thousand years had passed as they gazed upon the beauty of each other’s faces. Like six thousand years had passed, and they didn’t budge, gazing longingly at each other, as if this was the first breath that they could ever breathe. Leaning their faces closer to each other, Aziraphale’s gaze was half lidded, his head tilted slightly to the side. Anthony felt his heart beating in his throat, his mouth was dry as he puckered his lips slightly, ready for the soft touch of clouds that was just inches away.

A timer started beeping yanking them out of their trance, Anthony jumped and Aziraphale almost toppled over on his stool. They looked at each other and laughed, Anthony rose from the stool and pulled the muffins out of the oven and turned giving a sheepish look to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale smiled standing up, “I suppose we had better get back to it. I’ll start on the tea cakes while you finish dusting the tarts with sugar and pepper.”

Anthony nodded and began placing the muffin tins on one of the rolling carts and then pulled his attention back to topping the tarts with sugar.

Aziraphale hummed to himself as he began to butter the bottoms of a couple dozen muffin tins, then he began to whisk flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, cardamom, and salt in a large bowl. As he hummed and did this task Anthony popped next to him, finished topping the tarts with sugar and pepper he had popped them into the oven.

“What would you like me to do to help with the tea cakes?” He asked with a smile, his gangly limbs practically performing a vibrato to Aziraphale’s humming.

Aziraphale smiled, “If you’d like, you can whisk the eggs, milk, and butter in a bowl, then once they’re both at proper consistency we can combine them.” He said, his voice shy as he looked at Anthony’s handsome angular face.

Anthony grabbed the ingredients and began whisking them, as he did so his attention faltered from whisking and he gazed at Aziraphale, a wobbly smile across his face.

Aziraphale smiled and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, ah wot?” Anthony asked, missing something.

“I said, I’ve made a well in the dry ingredients, and I’m ready for your mixture, so we can finish off the batter. He said with a deep chuckle that reverberated through his whole form.

“Right.” Anthony said sheepishly.

Anthony grabbed the bowl with the mixture he had been mixing and came to where Aziraphale was standing, Aziraphale moved to the side slightly to give Anthony room to stand and pour the mixture into the batter.

Anthony began to pour his mixture into the bowl Aziraphale had, but he was not close enough to pour directly into the well and some of his mixture missed the bowl and landed on the counter.

He cursed under his breath and slid closer to the counter, to the bowl, the bowl that Aziraphale was holding.

Aziraphale held the bigger bowl with his left hand steadily as Anthony snaked his way between Aziraphale and the counter. Aziraphale was barely aware of the pouring of the mixtures together, he was extremely aware of how close Anthony was to him. Facing the counter, he wasn’t sure if Anthony knew how close he was to him, Aziraphale could feel the heat coming from Anthony’s body. His back and neck curved like the neck of a serene swan on the water. His hips leaning into the counter to balance his pour, his elbows pointed up in the air like exaggerated angle brackets to ensure that he was over the bowl enough.

Aziraphale noticed the larger bowl beginning to slide with motion of the pouring into the well and he reached around Anthony’s right side to balance it for him so they wouldn’t waste anymore batter.

Anthony noticed that the bowl was beginning to slip away as he continued to pour, Aziraphale’s right hand reached around him and he gripped the bowl tightly to ensure that it wouldn’t move.

Anthony tried to focus on pouring the remaining mixture into the well of the dry mix, but he was suddenly hyper aware of Aziraphale. He felt his soft belly brushing his back delicately, as if he was afraid of it touching Anthony. He felt the plushness of his big arms wrapping around him to hold the bowl steady, he could feel his lush chest pressing higher on his back, and he could feel the side of his face against his back, the steadiness of the bowl almost out of reach. Anthony felt his heartbeat madly in his ribcage, his pulse quickening as if he had just run a marathon, his mouth dry. He bit his lower lip to focus on concentrating on the batter.

Once the remaining batter had sloughed into the well Anthony put the bowl he was holding down, Aziraphale let go of the bigger bowl and let his hands drop at his sides.

“N-no.” Anthony protested as he turned around before he could think better of it.

Aziraphale raised a golden eyebrow at him, questioning.

“I, I liked, how you, how you felt, and if it’s, if it’s alright, could I possibly have a hug, from you?” Anthony stuttered out as if his tongue had been stuck to an icy utility pole.

A smile spread across Aziraphale’s face, “If only, I could have a hug in return.” He murmured gently, his hands tugging at his apron.

Anthony grinned, and he simultaneously took a small step towards Aziraphale as Aziraphale took a minute step towards him. Aziraphale raised his arms up, his face open, unsure. Anthony raised his arms and held them approximately Aziraphale length apart and waited.

Together they coiled their arms around one another, Anthony’s long arms snaking over Aziraphale’s sweet roundness, his arms nestling over the thick soft rolls that swooped and curved along Aziraphale’s sides finding a place that seemed to have been waiting there just for him, for his arms, for his arms to wrap around Aziraphale and to hold him close.

Aziraphale felt a twinge of panic at the first touch of Anthony’s arms around his fat middle, he could certainly feel every extra inch of flesh he held there. But the look on Anthony’s face, he looked as if he were experiencing a magical heavenly experience. Aziraphale relaxed in Anthony’s embrace, and he wrapped his large arms around his willowy frame, the tautness of Anthony’s body meeting the softness of his arms. Aziraphale’s arms wrapping Anthony in warmth and softness that could have easily been stolen from the clouds.

Anthony turned his head slightly, and rested his cheek against Aziraphale’s golden curls, Aziraphale inhaled sharply, and then turned his head and nestled against Anthony’s delicate chest. He could hear Anthony’s heartbeat beating madly under his ear, and he smiled.

Anthony never wanted to let Aziraphale go, never wanted the day to continue, never wanted to part.

The timer for the tarts began beeping and startled they jumped, then they both began to giggle nervously.

“I suppose we should do some actual work today.” Aziraphale muttered resting his chin on Anthony’s chest and looking up at him from below.

Anthony chuckled and looked down at Aziraphale, not loosening his arms around him.

“I suppose we had, but, I would like to be sure, that this activity, would happen again in the future?” Anthony said it in such a way that it sounded more like a question than a request.

Aziraphale broke into a wide smile, “Of course, of course.”

Anthony smiled down at Aziraphale, and as lucidly as they entwined around each other, then let their arms fall at their sides, and they both headed toward the oven with the tarts.

Anthony pulled the tarts out of the oven, and Aziraphale grabbed the honey and salt and together he and Anthony finished the tarts with a glaze of salty and sweet.

They stole glances at each other as they finished preparing the tarts, and once the tea cakes were ready to come out, they shyly skimmed each other’s fingertips with their own as they assembly lined the topping of the tea cakes. Aziraphale would dip the tops in melted butter, and then Anthony would dip the tops in a mixture of sugar, cinnamon, cardamom, and the tiniest bit salt.

By the time the tea cakes were completely ready to be put in the display cases it was time to open the bakery.

Anthony loaded the tea cakes, tarts, and muffins in the display cases in the storefront, while Aziraphale unlocked the door and let the flood of waiting customers in. Apparently when Aziraphale made these particular tea cakes they went very quickly.

Throughout the day the bakery was so busy that Anthony and Aziraphale were hardly able to have anymore time without a customer present. But once the last customer left the shop Aziraphale flipped the open sign to close and locked the door.

“Well that was a very productive day, and I’m sure my uncle won’t be complaining again any time soon about the profit margin.” Aziraphale said clapping his hands together walking back towards the counter where Anthony was sitting at the register.

Anthony stiffened at the word uncle and remembered that Bee had told him to stop by Lucy’s today, he felt his insides clench, but he painted a smile on his face and tilted his head, “yeah this should get him off your back.” He said with a chuckle.

Aziraphale smiled at Anthony the display case separating them, if not for the display case Aziraphale would be asking for another hug, but uninterrupted like they were this morning.

“I still owe you lunch you know.” Anthony said raising an eyebrow at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale chuckled, “That you do, but it is rather late for lunch I would say. The bakery will be closed on this weekend. If you’d like we could wait until then?” Aziraphale said looking hopefully at Anthony, hoping he wouldn’t forget these feelings by then.

“That sounds perfect. We could honestly do a dinner if you’d prefer, but I do owe you a meal.” He said with a wink.

Aziraphale giggled and came around the side of the display case and began emptying the empty trays so he could start washing them. Anthony followed suit and followed Aziraphale to the back where they began to clean up the counters, pans, and bowls.

“Have you ever had any pets?” Anthony asked offhandedly as he scrubbed at a particularly sticky pan.

“As a boy I had a cat named Cupid, he was gray and fluffy and polydactyl, he would climb up the trees in the orchards and hide from my uncle. Or he would go in the barn and lope in the hay. He was a good old cat, died of old age when I was nineteen.” Aziraphale said with a smile.

“Aw, none since then?” Anthony asked glancing at Aziraphale as he swept the floor.

“No, just me and the books and the bakery.” Aziraphale tittered sweeping behind Anthony, the swish swish of the broom bristles sharp against the tiles.

“I never had any pets myself; mom was allergic and then after she died my uncle didn’t want any animals in the house. Well any of mine I guess, my cousins had some pets, still do, lizards and toads and such.” Anthony said thinking of Hans’ toad and Laurent’s chameleon with a shudder.

“Well that’s not fair.” Aziraphale mused with a pout.

“My uncle has never been a fair man.” Anthony said pointedly scrubbing a clump of crumbles off the pan he was holding.

Aziraphale nodded, “I understand how that is.” He muttered sweeping the dirt he had gathered into the dust pan and walking it to the rubbish bin.

“Oh, I’ve got a question, one I’ve been meaning to ask.” Aziraphale started giving the dustpan a tap against the bin.

“What’s that?” Anthony asked curious.

“What’s your last name? I’ve been meaning to ask for payment reasons of course. I need to know the proper name to put on the pay checks.” Aziraphale stumbled over his words with a nervous smile.

Anthony’s back went rigid and he felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured down his shirt, he licked his lips and paused before answering, catching Aziraphale’s concerned expression in the reflection from the window.

“It’s Crowley.” He said lowly, trying not to seem like something was off to tip Aziraphale off that he was an imposter.

“Crowley, that sounds like a lovely name.” Aziraphale said with a smile aimed at Anthony’s back.

Anthony felt like he was going to vomit, he tried to think about something else, something besides his name, besides his uncle’s name, besides his task, besides his betrayal.

“Where do you want to go next week angel?” He blurted out, then blushing a vivid red when he realized he had called Aziraphale angel, and not when he was drunk. The nickname was fitting though.

Aziraphale started, and looked at Anthony’s back, thinking hard, “Well I’m not sure, whatever you pick should be suitable dear, I’m not picky.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle his cheeks tinging pink when he said the pet name.

“I’ll have to choose carefully, wouldn’t want to bollocks up our first date so much you never want to talk to me again.” He forced a chuckle, but as he spoke these words, he felt a clench of his insides, a churning of his stomach and a tightness to his chest.

“Oh, I can’t very well see that happening, even if it goes horribly wrong.” Aziraphale mused with his lips pursed.

Anthony forced a grin on his face as he turned his attention back to the pans he was cleaning. As Aziraphale hummed behind him cleaning up the counters, Anthony began to let his mind wander. He needed to figure out what he was going to do.

He was pretty sure he was hopelessly head over heels for Aziraphale, but he needed to figure a way to get out of his task set by his uncle, see about getting a new flat, a new job. Maybe he could just work here with Aziraphale, since he was already technically working here, maybe they could make it an official thing.

“Just curious, er, how much does I dunno assistant? How much would that even qualify for with the payroll?” Anthony asked, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like the future of everything rested on his answer.

“Unfortunately, not enough, my uncle doesn’t think I need an assistant, and since he thinks that the budget is only going to allow so much wiggle room. He’ll probably approve the minimum for it to not be illegal. I need to get a determined wage amount from him so I can pay you for all the wonderful work that you’ve done.” Aziraphale said, embarrassed.

“’S okay, I’m in no financial straits or anything, I was just curious.” Anthony replied, turning to face Aziraphale trying to keep the disappointment from flooding his tone, there went that idea.

“It’s the principle of the thing.” Aziraphale muttered as he wiped down the kitchen island to get the remaining crumbs off.

“That seems to be the last of it.” Aziraphale said coming to stand next to Anthony as he cleaned out the sink.

“Yeah, the last of it.” Anthony parroted and turned to look at Aziraphale, holding up his pruney hands with a laugh.

Aziraphale laughed, “I will call my uncle later today to discuss a wage set for you. Is there an amount you’d like matched? “ Aziraphale asked his eyebrows tilting upwards.

‘Enough for me to get out from my uncle’s thumb and still afford my rent and make sure the landlord who is his bff won’t kick me out even though he would rather stay buddy-buddy with my uncle than lose a tenant. And not get kicked out onto the streets and have to live under a bridge would be nice, that amount of wages.’ Anthony thought,

“Nah.” Anthony said waving a hand.

Aziraphale chuckled and they stood there a moment looking at each other.

Anthony felt a lump grow in his throat, he was a goner for this beautiful man, and he was such a disaster that he feared he would bring Aziraphale down with him.

Aziraphale smiled widely at Anthony, a ringing in his pocket yanking him abruptly out of the trance he was falling into looking into Anthony’s beautiful eyes.

“Hello?” Aziraphale answered.

“Aziraphale, it’s your favorite uncle, just reminding you about Sunday dinner, checking to see if you would be bringing a guest for once, though not sure why I’m checking. You’re as reliable as rain in that way!” Gabriel boomed on the other end of the line.

Aziraphale tightened his mouth, “Well actually, hold on one moment.”

He placed a hand over the mouth receiver, “Anthony, would you like to accompany me to dinner with my family on Sunday?” He asked.

Anthony’s eyes went wide, “S-sure.” He said without thinking, as soon as the word slipped through his lips, he wanted to pull it back out of the air and stuff it deep down inside him where it would never again see the light of day. But the smile that that one syllable produced from Aziraphale, was blinding, and Anthony wanted to capture it forever, tuck it away where it would always be protected, where he would always be protected.

“Actually uncle, the fellow I told you about will be accompanying me to dinner this Sunday.” Aziraphale said with a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Oh, the new colleague eh? Well that’s good, I can go over a few policies and such with him while he’s here. Alright then nephew, I’ll see you Sunday.” Gabriel said and hung up before Aziraphale could inform him that he didn’t intend for Anthony to come as just a colleague.

He shook his head slightly and closed the flip phone and slipped it back into this pocket.

“Sorry if that put you on the spot dear boy, and if you really don’t want to attend please let me know.” Aziraphale apologized realizing his stumble when he asked Anthony about attending with him.

“No, no you’re okay, I don’t mind.” Anthony reassured Aziraphale gently raising his hand as if to reach out and touch him, keep him close, but he dropped his arm and looked down at his feet.

“Well I suppose you’d want to be heading out for the evening.” Aziraphale said with a small pout.

“Yeah, I gotta swing by my cousin’s and see what they want.” Anthony muttered heading to the back door.

Once they reached the threshold of the door they stopped, and Anthony turned to look at Aziraphale.

“Could I, could I hug you again, before I go?” He asked gently.

Aziraphale beamed, “Of course dear.” He said, his arms up and ready to embrace Anthony.

As Anthony twined himself around the soft warmth that was Aziraphale, he hoped that he could figure something out to keep him. Keep him here with him, keep him from being hurt, keep him wrapped in this spindly hug for eternity.

Aziraphale smiled into Anthony’s chest as he felt the gentle squeezes from the taller man, he was very glad that he was on the shorter side of things, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to bury his face in his torso. Aziraphale smiled happily into Anthony’s chest as they stood there hugging.

Simultaneously they pulled apart and Anthony grabbed the doorknob, “Right, well I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He said trying to keep the tears at bay and the wobbly smile still on his face.

“See you tomorrow.” Aziraphale echoed, smiling at Anthony.

Aziraphale watched Anthony walk to the Bentley and drive off with a wave goodbye. He gently closed and locked the door behind him and hummed to himself as he turned off the lights and climbed the stairs to his flat.

As Anthony drove to Lucy’s he thought about ways to tell Aziraphale about what he was sent to do, ‘Aziraphale, my family has been pitted against your family for generations, and my uncle sent me to sabotage you for the baking contest, to steal your ideas and then to just crush you. But the moment I laid eyes on you I’ve known I couldn’t do anything to hurt you. I haven’t told him anything, I can’t, I couldn’t ever hurt you. And I know this sounds ridiculous, but I promise I never meant to hurt you.’

Anything he tried made him sound like an utter fucking twat, he growled at himself and yanked the car into park as he pulled into Lucy’s.

He slammed the door of the Bentley and skulked into the back of the café where he found Bee sitting on the counter and filing her nails.

“Hard at work huh?” Anthony smarmed at her as he crossed his arms.

“Zzzzip it Crawly.” She said with a flicker of her eyes at him.

“What’d you want? I’ve got things to do.” Anthony said trying to hurry along this visit so he could hurry home. He felt like an even bigger fucking twat being in the actual lair of his family.

“Oh, well last night I went out to one of the clubs down in SoHo.” Bee said, an eyebrow raised.

“So?” Anthony asked, not sure where Bee was going with her little story.

“I saw something rather interesting walking past an alley. I saw this old antique Bentley, parked next to this dinky little bakery.” She said this and her eyes flashed from her nails and up to him.

He tried to keep his face from revealing anything, “So? Again, what does this have to do with me?” Anthony asked his voice cocky with false bravado.

“So I thought to myself, late at night, more like early morning, I wonder If this was Crawly’s Bentley, surely not. Surely he’d be by himself in his flat preening over his plants. Surely he wouldn’t be at the opposition’s flat past midnight. “ As she said this her tone was sickeningly sweet, and she smiled as if she were a barn cat that had just set sights on a crippled little mouse.

Anthony felt chills go down his spine and an icicle pierce his chest.

“Lots of people collect old cars.” He said trying to brush her off, trying to sound like she was spouting nonsense.

“Not that old car.” She said pointedly.

Anthony shrugged, “So wot you got snockered and then left the club and saw some randos car in SoHo and thought it was mine? I hope you didn’t egg it or something stupid like that.” He said offhandedly with a cocked eyebrow.

Bee narrowed her eyes at him, and her jaw clenched, Anthony stood there trying to keep his composure, behind his sunglasses his eyes were wildly glancing around for an escape.

“Not that old car and not in SoHo next to that bloody bakery.” She growled her voice low threatening.

“Okay sure Bee, that sounds like something that I would totally do, leave my Bentley next to the enemy’s bakery without me there making sure it didn’t get stolen or doing undercover work for Uncle Stan.” Anthony said sarcastically.

Bee glowered at him, staring at him, as if trying to pull the truth out of his heart by the stingy veins and arteries flowing through him.

“If I see that Bentley again, at odd hours of the night, next to the enemy’s bakery, I’m going to tell my father. Tell him I’m concerned for my dear cousin’s wellbeing.” Bee threatened her voice icy.

“Tell him whatever you want Bee, I’m sure he’d love coming to check and finding out it wasn’t my car at all. You probably saw some other kind of car and thought it was the Bentley.” Anthony said as he turned to leave.

“Not so fast, father wanted to see you when you came by.” Bee added disdainfully.

Anthony rolled his eyes and brushed past Bee to go to his uncle’s office.

As he made his way back to his uncle’s office, he tried to calm his nerves down, he took in deep breaths and exhaled slowly.

He knocked on the closed door in front of him, “Come in.” His uncle’s voice boomed on the other side of the door.

Anthony opened the door and slipped into the office quickly, “Hey uncle, Bee said you wanted to see me?” he said as casually as he could muster as he slid into the chair across from his uncle.

“Yes, just wanted to make sure that things were going according to plan after our little chat?” His uncle asked flicking his eyes from the computer screen to Anthony.

“Everything’s fine.” Anthony said with a nod.

“Good, because the baking competition is nearing, time slows for no one. I want to know what the baker plans on making for the competition by the end of the month.” His uncle’s tone was deep and dark and threatening.

“Sounds good uncle.” Anthony said wanting to sprint from the room.

His uncle dismissed him by looking away nodding towards the door.

Anthony wanted to run out, but he had to move slowly, as if everything was okay.

He left his uncle’s office and headed out to his Bentley, pointedly ignoring his cousin as he walked past.

Once in the Bentley he grabbed his phone and opened his calming app and followed the prompts, trying to calm the fuck down before starting to drive back to his flat. His insides churning with disgust, betrayal, anger, hopelessness. He growled in frustration and tossed his phone on the floor of the passenger seat and started the Bentley, speeding out of the parking lot and heading towards his flat so he could start searching for an out, a new flat, a new job. Something to get him out of this hell that he was in.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony feeling guilty and horrid.  
> Aziraphale feeling smitten.  
> Mentions of interesting baked goods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be the chapter where they finally went on their damn date, but then it turned into like 10 pages of angst on word and I couldn't stand making the chapter even longer.  
> So angsty chapter now but the next chapter will be soft and fluffy!

Chapter 20

Throughout the week Anthony and Aziraphale fell into a rhythm of working and flirting and hugging, all while hiding their rising feelings and rising anxiousness for the upcoming weekend. They had it planned that Saturday would be the day that Anthony takes Aziraphale to lunch, or dinner, to a meal, on a date. And then the next day Anthony would accompany Aziraphale to his family dinner.

Anthony tried to balance the wire of his task, he didn’t want to do it, but his uncle, and now Bee was breathing even more so down his neck. Anthony had applied to several jobs and even had a couple interviews that week, but once the interviewer found out who his uncle was, they clammed up real fast. It didn’t help that Lucy’s was the only thing on Anthony’s resume, so when they saw that name they were surprised.

“Thought old Stan didn’t hire anyone but family there.” One interviewer said, trying to hide their shock when they saw the current employment listed.

“Yeah, he’s my uncle.” Anthony muttered looking away from the interviewer.

“Oh, I, I’m so sorry, this isn’t going to be a possibility.” She had said apologetically pushing his resume back to him across the table.

Anthony sighed heavily, “I understand.” He said grabbing his resume and leaving the office.

That’s how all the interviews had gone that he had managed to schedule. Meanwhile the different housing that he had called were all just as bad. Everywhere was either too expensive, or they knew his uncle, the one place that had called his current landlord to check his history quickly turned him down when his current landlord went on a rant about how he was constantly out of work or low on money. Things that his uncle had poisoned him with throughout the years.

The progress on The Task had been minimal at best, Anthony didn’t want to fall even more onto the side of betrayal with Aziraphale, but he also was getting squeezed on the opposite side from his uncle. His uncle had shown up at his flat a few more times at different hours of the day. Keeping him on his toes, keeping him from recognizing a pattern. He was slowly losing any semblance of sanity that he had, he was constantly looking over his shoulder, checking hallways and the back of the Bentley. He couldn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time, afraid that his uncle was going to show up in the middle of the night.

His landlord had come by at one point to evict him, shocked Anthony stood there sputtering and stuttering until his uncle happened to arrive as his landlord was there.

“Anthony? What seems to be the problem?” His uncle had asked, his voice dripping with fake sincerity.

“Stan, good to see you, I’m here to serve an eviction notice to your nephew.” His landlord had said handing Stan a piece of paper.

His uncle surveyed it, and an eyebrow raised, he glanced at Anthony with a smirk and put an arm around the landlord’s shoulders.

“Old friend, surely my nephew can continue to stay here in your building, he’s taking on a dual role at the café, and is even getting a second income at another facility in town. He knows better than to give those up and lose everything he has here. Right?” His uncle explained, his voice like poisoned molasses coming out of his mouth.

Anthony narrowed his eyes at his uncle, but the landlord was buying completely into it, “Only because he’s your nephew Stan. That is the only reason he’s staying.”

“Understood. Now how about I take you to the pub across the street chat a bit?”

Anthony’s landlord had taken the offer and Stan led him away, shooting a grin at Anthony from over his shoulder, mockingly.

The rest of the week went by in a whirlwind of dread and anxiety, Anthony taking his hydroxyzine like tic tacs throughout the day to try and keep calm without overdoing the medication and being a complete zombie in the shop.

His uncle had even gone as far as wanting daily reports on what was being baked and served at A Slice of Heaven. Photographic evidence that he was still there gathering intel. That week he had, reluctantly sent pictures of chocolate cinnamon babkallah, pumpkin scones, hazelnut and buckwheat financiers with figs, herb provolone scones, chaussons aux pommes, black sesame pear tea cakes, cheddar walnut scones, lemon-lavender pound cake, schnecken, chocolate babka, matcha doughnuts, and demerara sugar buns, along with several loaves and boules of bread.

“Anthony, is there a reason the doughnuts are a photography subject today?” Aziraphale asked teasingly one day when Anthony was trying to be slick and take a quick picture of the matcha doughnuts while he was loading them into the display case.

Anthony held back the sensation to vomit and gave Aziraphale a crooked grin, “What you never hear of Instagram angel? These are going on the Gram!” Anthony said with fake enthusiasm.

“I most certainly have heard of “The Gram”, I do get customers that are “of the youth” in here that talk with the current colloquial trends.” Aziraphale said with a haughty tone.

Anthony tried to think of something to say, for fuck’s sake he wanted to tell the truth, but the shop was about to open, and their date was tomorrow night and he didn’t want to ruin the day that was about to start, and didn’t want to ruin the date that they would be going on. He could tell him after the date, that way it wouldn’t be so bad, especially if the date went well, surely, he of all people would understand something like family obligations.

“Well I was toying with the idea of the shop having an account on Instagram, or maybe a Facebook. Something to get it out there more, and for that to happen we need pictures.” Anthony said lamely, the lie tasting like ashes in his mouth and making his soul wither.

“That sounds very cash money.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle as he unlocked the shop door.

Anthony laughed at the Gen Z expression coming from the baker that seemed to be locked away in a different era that was full of pressed flowers, calligraphy, and Victorian customs.

Anthony felt a pang in his heart when Aziraphale smiled at him as he came back to the counter where he was standing, he could feel his eyes getting a bit misty at the thought of all this going down like a lead balloon.

He tried to distract himself with customers’ orders, a scone here, a doughnut there, but the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach remained constant, guilt and shame eating at his soul like an animal caught in a trap.

Once the day had ended, Aziraphale locked up the shop and Anthony began washing pans and utensils while Aziraphale swept and cleaned counters.

“I must say the work does go by much quicker with assistance, nothing like good company to end the day.” Aziraphale said blushing slightly as he looked at Anthony’s slender back arched over the sink.

He heard Anthony chuckle, watched his pointed shoulders shake a bit under his dark clothing.

“Dunno about good company, your standards must not be very high.” Anthony replied flashing Aziraphale a lopsided grin.

Aziraphale’s lips pouted, “Well I don’t know about that, you’re quite welcome company,” he paused, feeling butterflies fluttering in his belly, “quite enjoyable company, also. One I would be saddened to lose.” He said, a blush creeping up his neck.

Anthony’s movements of washing the pie pan stopped and Aziraphale could hear him take a sharp intake of air.

“C’mon angel, you can have much better company than me.” Anthony murmured guilt washing over him for the thousandth time that week.

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed and he placed the broom to the side and moseyed up to stand next to him, grabbing one of the washed and rinsed pans and drying it off.

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he mused glancing at Anthony from the corner of his eye. He felt a flash of affection towards him when a smile quirked up his lips.

“Yeah, got any fun plans for the weekend?” Anthony asked.

Aziraphale looked at him his brows knitted together, his mouth popping like a trout out of water, a wave of unease washed over him, of course he didn’t really want to go on an outing with Aziraphale, of course, he was foolish to think otherwise.

Anthony turned smirking at Aziraphale, his grin broadening, “Just kidding angel.” He said with a nervous titter.

“Oh, you foul fiend.” Aziraphale said, his broad face breaking into a grin, as he flapped the drying towel at Anthony’s arm.

“I have a reservation at a restaurant that I hope you’ll like.” Anthony murmured, his voice vibrating with nerves.

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked his eyes twinkling as he looked at Anthony.

“Yeah, it’s er, a surprise though, but if we get there and you don’t want to go there, we can definitely go somewhere else. I don’t mind, it’s, it’s, it’s all what you’d like angel.” He stuttered, the dark lenses hiding his nervous eyes from Aziraphale.

“What sort of attire would be acceptable?” Aziraphale asked turning his gaze back to the sink, if he looked at Anthony much too closely, he would surely combust. The butterflies in his belly flapping harder than before as if they were frenzied.

“Hmmm.” Anthony mused. He turned to look at Aziraphale, his sweater clinging to his gentle swooping sides, his generous belly pressing against the counter. The monotone colors bringing out the shining twinkles of his eyes.

“You could wear any sort of attire, and it would be acceptable, it would be beautiful.” Anthony slipped, a blush blazing his cheeks.

Aziraphale turned, his face turning to a deep pink, his eyes pulling earnestly at the edges.

“D-does the restaurant have a d-dress code?” Aziraphale asked stuttering with his nerves, he wanted to be sure he had something nice to wear, and at his size sometimes that was a difficult thing to come by, though he did have some old nicer clothes. It’s been so long since he wore them that they also might not fit.

Anthony felt nerves go down his back, “I, I’m not sure, I’ll, I’ll find out and let you know. But I will be dressing to the nines, have to impress my date you know. Don’t want to make him think he’s going dining with some street rat.” Anthony said with a forced laugh.

“Oh, I much doubt that you could ever look like a street rat. And you don’t have to impress me, I already think you’re quite dazzling.” Aziraphale said without thinking, another blush darkening his cheeks.

Anthony was taken aback, and a soppy grin broke out on his face. God how he wanted to just lean four inches to the right and kiss Aziraphale on his cherubic cheek, wanted to kiss him on his plump lips, just wanted to kiss him. He took in a shaky breath and calmed himself, he wanted to save the kiss for tomorrow, make sure that Aziraphale really wanted a kiss from him. He didn’t want to be impulsive and ruin it. He turned back to the sink and continued washing pans until they were all spotless.

“Well, that seems to be everything.” Aziraphale said brightly as they surveyed the clean kitchen.

“Yup, I guess I’ll just be heading out then.” Anthony said as he sauntered toward the back door.

Aziraphale trailed beside him, to lock the door behind Anthony when he departed.

As they arrived at the door, Anthony turned around, tentatively looking at Aziraphale, his eyebrows tilted upward, questioning his arms twitching at his sides, “Is it, can I, may I h-hug you?” He stumbled over his words, his tongue playing a prank on him, his lips too eager to form the words.

Aziraphale beamed, “Of course, but only, only if I m-may hug you as w-well.” He responded with a nervous wavering to his voice.

Anthony grinned and held his arms up, wide enough for Aziraphale to step into his embrace. Aziraphale tentatively stepped forward, extending his own arms up, and embracing Anthony as Anthony embraced him.

This, this made everything worthwhile. Anthony thought as he wrapped his long arms around Aziraphale’s large frame. Every time he could hold him close, every time he could nuzzle his face into the golden curls, every time he could feel the warmth radiating from Aziraphale, and every time his arms sunk into the softness that enveloped Aziraphale, it was worth everything.

Aziraphale felt like his heart would sprout wings and take off anytime he was able to hold Anthony close. Anytime he was able to bury his face in his delicate chest, anytime he was able to feel the tenderness in which Anthony embraced him, anytime he realized his breaths and heartbeat were matching his own. He felt like at anytime he could be on a cloud in the skies, the embraces were so heavenly.

He sighed happily into Anthony’s chest, at the sound of that sweet sigh Anthony squeezed him tighter, if only for a moment. That soft sweet sigh melted every bone in Anthony’s body, and he just wanted to melt into Aziraphale, mold himself against him, stay embraced for eternity.

They stood there, longer than a moment, holding each other in their arms, until Anthony shifted his weight and Aziraphale realized how long they had been standing there. “Oh dear,” He said raising his head from Anthony’s chest.

Anthony cocked an auburn eyebrow at him, “Wot?” He asked.

“It is getting dreadfully late, and though I wouldn’t mind if you stayed, and we continued to, hug. I do believe we should both get an adequate night’s rest. Especially since we are to have a, a, an outing tomorrow evening.” Aziraphale stumbled over the word date, he could still hardly believe it.

“As much as I hate leaving you,” Anthony murmured, raising a hand to cup Aziraphale’s cheek, “I do agree, some sleep would be good for the both of us.”

A smile painted itself sweetly on Aziraphale’s lips as Anthony stroked his cheek with his thumb, one long arm still wrapped around his large frame.

They dropped their arms from around the other simultaneously and Aziraphale opened the door for Anthony. He stepped through the doorway and stopped, turning to face Aziraphale again.

He raised his slender hand up and tenderly cupped Aziraphale’s cheek again, stroking the softness of his face, “I’ll message you about any dress code I find out about, but don’t worry, you’ll be beautiful in anything you wear.” He murmured, his eyes searching Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale smiled with a gentle radiance that would make the stars jealous, and he leaned into Anthony’s touch.

“Drive safely, mind how you go.” He murmured to Anthony.

Anthony smiled, dropped his hand from Aziraphale’s face, and headed to the Bentley.

Aziraphale stood in the doorway watching him drive away until he was out of sight, he sighed happily then shut and locked the door behind him before going upstairs to his flat and getting ready for bed. As he lay in bed with the covers tucked up to his chin he tried, and failed, to not to get his hopes up too high for tomorrow night.

When Anthony arrived back at his flat, he walked inside with trepidation, as soon as he opened the door, he flicked the lights on. Just because the lights were off didn’t mean someone wasn’t there. He cautiously walked through his flat, checking the different rooms and closets to make sure no one was there with him. Once he was sure no one else was there he went to the plant room and flipped the light switch on. His cousins were standing there with their arms crossed.

“Hans, Laurent, what do I owe the pleasure?” Anthony asked trying not to sound shaken.

“Dad sent us; said you were taking too long with the information he wanted.” Hans grumbled his dirty blonde hair hanging in his eyes.

“Yeah, said to make sure you understand, make sure he got the point across.” Laurent said with a gleam in his eye as he held up a large pair of kitchen shears.

The blood drained from Anthony’s face, when he saw the sharpened shears in his cousin’s dark hand.

“I get the point, no need to bring theatrics into it.” Anthony brushed him off, waving his hand in the air, trying to keep the fear from seeping into his voice.

“Dad was pretty specific on what he wanted us to do, to get the point across.” Hans said taking a step towards Anthony.

Anthony’s eyes flashed to his plants, assessing them quickly to make sure none of them had been sheared.

“If you’d just do what you’re told Crawly, then we wouldn’t have to do things the difficult way.” Hans said, sounding like he was trying to be reasonable, but the glint in his eyes dark and menacing.

Anthony gritted his teeth at the nickname, “My name is not Crawly, never had been never will.” He growled, stepping close to Hans and standing nose to nose.

Hans grinned, his dirty frog kissing mouth smelling of a swap trench.

“So, you say, but if that were true, then why are you on your belly? Like a snake?” Hans asked innocently.

Anthony flinched in confusion, and then Hans pulled his arm back and jabbed Anthony’s side with his elbow.

Anthony doubled over in pain, the elbow making contact with the delicate skin guarding his kidney from being damaged.

“Fuck!” He growled grabbing at his side in pain.

Hans elbowed Anthony again downward at the nape of his neck, this blow taking Anthony even more by surprise and causing him to fall on the ground.

“See, on your belly, like a snake.” Hans barked a laugh as he pinned Anthony down with a knee to his back.

“Hans get the fuck off of me.” Anthony growled turning his head to his cousin.

“Not so fast.” Laurent said taking a step closer his foot firm on Anthony’s hand, and crouched down at his level holding the kitchen shears.

“Like we said, dad wanted us to make sure we got the point across.” Hans said with a sneer as Laurent yanked a handful of Anthony’s hair up and butchered it off his head with the shears.

“What are you doing? Get the fuck off!” Anthony shouted trying to buck Hans off of his back and pull his hand from under Laurent’s foot, but the pair of them were pinning him as hard as they could.

Laurent grabbed another handful of Anthony’s hair and wrenched it sharply upwards before chopping it off.

“I swear to fucking Satan himself I will end you both if you don’t get the fuck off of me!” Anthony shouted, trying to keep his voice steady and unwavering in his upset state.

Hans laughed at him viciously while Laurent painfully yanked one last handful of hair upwards and taking the shears to it before taking his foot from Anthony’s hand.

Anthony scraped his arms under him and pushed himself off the floor, causing Hans to stumble off of him and crashing into Laurent.

Anthony stood there breathing raggedly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, “Get the fuck out.” He snarled in a deep voice.

Hans and Laurent laughed, “Dad said next time he has to send a reminder it won’t be as nice.” Laurent chuckled as he began to walk out of the plant room and towards the door of the flat.

Hans raised an eyebrow at Anthony and began walking towards the exit, he looked blatantly at Anthony and kicked one of his plants, his Alaine, over, knocking her from her soil and scattering her contents onto the floor.

Anthony rushed over, dropping to his knees and assessing the damage that his cousin had inflicted as Hans laughed cruelly until slamming the door behind him as he left.

Anthony tried to fight tears as he held Alaine close to himself, protective with one arm, as he tried to gather the spilled soil with the other. His tears not wanting to be contained, wetting his face and dripping down his sharp cheeks onto the floor and onto Alaine.

“Oh Alaine, I’m so sorry old girl. I’m so so sorry.” He sobbed, the damage didn’t seem to be too severe, her roots hadn’t been exposed which was good, but if he didn’t act fast, she would be dented, or dried out, and it would take a long time for her to regain her shape.

He gently and carefully laid Alaine down onto the rug, turning the pot so she wouldn’t twist, and unfolded his legs from under himself as he crossed the plant room to the pantry of supplies, he kept for the plants.

He grabbed a new pot, different bags of soil mix-ins, and anything else he could carry and brought it all in a heap over to where Alaine lay.

He sniffed as tears continued to roll down his face, his hands trembling as he reached into each bag and pulled out different nutrients, sphagnum peat moss, perlite, compost, coconut powder, some fireplace ash that he had collected from the bakery. He choked a sob as he grabbed one of the handfuls of flaming hair that had been discarded to the floor by Laurent and shook it into the mixture in the new pot. He used his hands and carefully weaved the repair mixture together, the soil and hair and nutrients seeping through his knobby fingers, weaving into each other to make the best home for Alaine.

When he was satisfied with the mixing, he turned to Alaine, she was looking just a little limp but nothing non repairable. Anthony choked back another sob as he thought of his mother lovingly potting Alaine when she first brought her home from the garden center.

He reached for her and placed his hand around her base at the soil level and with his other hand he turned her half-spilled pot upside down and patiently waited for gravity to ease her out of the pot she was in. He carefully arranged her into the new pot, mixing the old soil at her roots with the new mixture in the new pot. He let her adjust a moment before letting her go to stand upright on her own in her new pot.

He watched her closely as she held herself in place a moment, her leaves drooping slightly, her stem thankfully hadn’t been damaged in the incident. He sighed in relief as she stood upright without any bending or drooping from her stem. He got up and grabbed some mineral water from his refrigerator and gave her some water, then gingerly picked her up in her new pot and carried her to part of the plant room with an adjustable heat lamp that he kept around for the cold months where the sunshine was just gray on gray.

He placed Alaine under the heat lamp and turned it on a timer set on a low heat setting, and he gazed at her one more time before getting up and looking at the other plants.

Asher was looking better than he had for the last couple days, Jasper and Gwendolyn seemed to be getting too much sun. Anthony pulled their heavy pots across the floor and rotated them to face a new direction, and nudged Asher into the spot where the sun would stream in tomorrow.

He sighed, his shoulders heavy, and he went to the bathroom to go look at what sort of state his hair was in now.

He stood at the sink and groaned, the least Laurent could do was make the cuts look somewhat even, but no, they were jagged and mismatched and all kinds of uneven. He looked like a dammed scarecrow that had half of his straw pulled out of his head. He ran a hand through his hair and several strands wafted into the sink, he looked back up at his reflection and shuddered.

He tore his gaze away from himself and opened his medicine cabinet, looking to see if he had anything to fix the mess on his scalp. He grabbed the clippers that he hadn’t used in a millennium and plugged it into the wall. The buzzing vibrations making his hand even more unsteady than it already was.

He took a deep breath and began to buzz his hair to try and make it look presentable for the public eye. Specifically, one set of blue eyes that he would see tomorrow.

On Saturday morning Aziraphale grinned as he woke up to sunlight streaming into his bedroom. The warm sunbeams hitting his covers warming him and making it difficult to get out of the bed. He reached for his mobile and checked if Anthony had sent him any messages. Specifically, any messages about the dress code of the restaurant they would be dining at tonight. Regretfully there was no missed messages from Anthony. Aziraphale pulled the covers back and padded to the kitchen to start a pot of tea. As the tea began to heat up Aziraphale made his way to his closet to see what clothing might be suitable for the dinner outing with Anthony tonight.

He glanced throughout the clothes hanging, most of them were comfortable shirts and sweaters that he generally wore on a day to day basis. But he wanted to dress up for the dinner tonight, wanted to dress up for Anthony.

Aziraphale pulled out a couple of options to choose from and then went back to the kitchen to have his tea, as well as send Anthony a message.

He sat down at the small table he had and held his mug in his hands, smiling at the gentle warmth that oozed from it. He took a sip of his tea and hummed in contentment, the soothing flavors dancing on his tongue.

Aziraphale placed his mug on the tabletop and picked up his mobile, he held it in one hand and used his index finger of the other to tap out the message he wanted to send to Anthony. He took his time typing out the message adding the proper spelling and punctuation where intended. Once he was satisfied with the message he hit send, and continued sipping at his tea, waiting to hear back from Anthony.

Saturday morning came and Anthony was surprised to find that he didn’t wake up in a half haze cocktail of fear, anxiety and dread. He clamored out of bed and dragged himself to the bathroom, catching his reflection in the mirror he winced. The night, hell, the week had not been kind to him, he thought he had looked bad the morning after drinking wine all night with Aziraphale, but this morning he looked like a gremlin had taken a tumble down a rocky mountain side hitting everything on the way down. He had dark purple and blue circles under his eyes, which enunciated the wrinkles at the corners since they weren’t lost in the paleness of his skin. His hair looked as if he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket, in his sleep, the hack job on his hair still a fright. His skin was sickly looking, too pale, too translucent practically.

Anthony sluggishly made his way from the bathroom to the plant room to check on the plants, carefully changing rooms in case he had more unexpected visitors. Alaine seemed to be doing much better than the night before, he migrated each plant a spot over and grabbed his plant mister from the kitchen sink.

He saw his cell blinking that he had a message before he made his way back to the plants. He tapped the screen and a text message from Aziraphale was waiting for him.

‘Anthony, I’m sorry to be troubling you so early in the morning. I have yet to hear about the dress code of the restaurant we are dining at tonight and I was looking through my wardrobe wanting to prepare accordingly. If you happen to have a free moment to let me know where we are going to be dining, or the dress code if you want to continue to be secretive, please reply. Yours, Aziraphale.’

Anthony smiled soppily at his phone, he could just imagine the fussy baker typing out everything so carefully, making sure everything was utterly prim and proper before hitting send.

Anthony smiled to himself a moment, and then tapped out a message back to Aziraphale before climbing into the shower to see what else could be done with his hair.

Aziraphale’s mobile buzzed on the table next to him and he all but snatched it up, the anticipation of a return message from Anthony making his hands flutter.

‘Im keeping it a secret angel. But dress code is nice but not fancy fancy, basically semi formal. But u could wear anything & u would look amazing. Pick u up @6pm.’

Aziraphale smiled and continued to sip at his tea, soothing himself down a bit as his nerves jittered in readiness for tonight.

The hours simultaneously slipped past as well as dragged on. The excitement for tonight making each of their hearts quicken in pace.

Aziraphale tried to calm his nerves for the fifth time in the same number of minutes as he adjusted his tartan bowtie and tugged down at his blue dress shirt, and then tugged his brown velvet waistcoat downward over the dress shirt. He tried to keep his hands busy other than fussing with his clothing. He didn’t want to make it any more frayed than it was already, the vest had been another hand me down from his grandfather, one of his favorites. The velvet was so soft it felt practically feather like under his touch, the buttons an intricate design etched in a golden hue.

Aziraphale tugged downward at the waistcoat again, it was feeling snugger than the last time he wore it. Particularly where it covered his belly, the waistcoat stretching forgivingly over the large arch of his midsection and over the swooping rolls of his sides. He thought of the outfit he had cast aside for this one and began going back towards his bedroom to change. He reached for the dark colored button up shirt and fingered the material. Although what he was wearing was a bit snug, he felt very nice in it, dandy in fact. He knew that if he wore the dark colored shirt that he would be fiddling with it all night and worrying about how it looked on him since it would be the first time wearing it. He sighed and placed the dark shirt back in the closet just as his mobile chimed in his pocket.

Anthony tugged at the cuffs of his long sleeved dark maroon silk shirt and debated on adding a tie. He didn’t want to look like a prat, but he did want to dress nicely for Aziraphale. He held the tie up, then took it away. He rolled his eyes and settled on wearing slicks of red at the collar of his shirt. He shimmied into his dark trousers; a bit tighter than he remembered. Once he was dressed, he mussed around in his cabinets until he found the small round tin of hair pomade that he used to use to style his hair when it was shorter. He grabbed a little goop of it and ran his fingers through his hair, molding it into what he hoped was a good-looking pompadour. He looked over himself, taking in all the inadequacies of his face, and shrugged at his reflection, as usual this was the good it was going to get. He walked out of the bathroom, and yanked on his boots and black jacket, stopped in the kitchen to grabbed everything he needed, and headed out to the Bentley to head to Aziraphale’s.


	21. Chapter 21 (oh my god 21)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Aziraphale go on their first official date. They go to the most romantic restaurant in London named Clos Maggiore (which is a real restaurant and looks so beautiful).  
> There's sweet oblivious mutual pining, adoration, sweet flirting, hand holding, there are some references to internalized fatphobia followed by sweet body positivity and worship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is finally the first official date!! But good god it's only the first part of the date because I can't help but to describe every crumb of food and every inch of decor.  
> So now what was originally going to be one chapter is going to be two.   
> Yay for more pining and adoration!
> 
> Thank you for reading lovelies!

Chapter 21

Aziraphale checked his mobile when he felt it buzz against his side, he took it out of his pocket with tittering fingers and flipped it open.

‘Be there soon angel :)’

Aziraphale felt his heart flutter and he smiled; he made his way downstairs to the storefront so Anthony wouldn’t have to wait on him coming downstairs when he did arrive, he made sure to grab the keys to his truck so he would be completely prepared and they could leave swiftly. No need to make him wait on him for any reason, no need for him to have another reason to change his mind, no need for him to have another reason to reject him. Nervously Anthony fiddled with one of the gold tinted buttons of his waistcoat, feeling it close to popping off he shoved his hand in his pocket and continued making his way downstairs.

Anthony sped through the streets of SoHo, anxious and excited to see Aziraphale, to take him to dinner, to hold him close, to hold his hand, maybe, maybe even kiss him. He felt a zap of electricity go through him at that thought and he shook his head to try and keep his focus on the road.

Aziraphale felt a new wave of nerves wash over him as he saw Anthony and the Bentley driving up and pulling into the alley next to the bakery. His hands fluttered at his bowtie and then down to his waistcoat and tugged it down. He wondered idly again if he should try and change quickly, but he didn’t want to make Anthony wait.

Before Aziraphale could make his way through the door Anthony had unfolded from the Bentley and sauntered over in so few steps Aziraphale was surprised that he didn’t just materialize at the door with the snap of his fingers. Anthony stood there with his hands behind his back, his lips tilted up in a half smile.

“Hullo Angel.” He murmured, shyness painting his tone.

Aziraphale’s lips parted but no words were able to escape, he was dazzled to the point of speechlessness by the man standing in front of him.

Anthony stood there, the light around him illuminating him like he was an angel, the silky fabric of his dark purple dress shirt iridescent in the light. As if there were threads of glittery fabric sewn into it, threaded stars shimmering throughout the dark fabric. The top button undone revealing a small V of skin at his throat, pale delicate flesh tantalizingly on display for all to see. The shirt was tucked into his tight black pants that accentuated how long and lithe he was.

Anthony tried not to become a smitten puddle of goo on the sidewalk as he took in Aziraphale’s outfit. It was perfect for the old-fashioned baker and ancient book collector, the outfit seemingly antique, but was well maintained through the many years he had undoubtedly owned it. Anthony smiled as his eyes followed the swoops and curves the waistcoat took to properly cover Aziraphale’s wide form. He wanted to reach up and caress the gentle edges of Aziraphale’s waist. Wanted to cup his plump cheeks in his hands, wanted to run his fingers through his golden curls. He wanted to run his hands along the velvet waistcoat and see if it was as soft as his petal smooth skin, he wanted to finger the watch fob he had hooked through his buttonhole, the color matching his hair, he wanted to smooth the tartan bowtie he was wearing and compare the colors to his eyes. The blue button up under the waistcoat highlighted the cornflower blue eyes that were shining up at him.

Anthony couldn’t gather words for a moment, he was struck with how gorgeous Aziraphale looked in front of him, the lights of the porch making him glow like an ethereal being.

He parted his lips to say something, anything, compliment how beautiful Aziraphale looked, ask how the books upstairs were, anything to make him not seem like a drooling baboon.

“Ngk.” He stuttered out and blushed furiously.

Aziraphale tittered a laugh as a blush spread across Anthony’s face, down his neck, even painting the exposed V of his throat.

“You got a haircut.” Aziraphale exclaimed looking at the swooping pompadour that Anthony’s hair was now in, no longer long enough to tuck behind his ear, or to swoop up into his signature half bun.

“Wha, you don’t like it?” Anthony asked, his eyes immediately wetting behind his sunglasses. He tried not to let the tears break over his eyelids, it was silly of him to be upset that Aziraphale didn’t like his hair.

“No, no, I didn’t say that.” Aziraphale said raising his hand as if to stop Anthony from moving away from him.

He gazed into his eyes through the dark sunglasses, searching his face, “You look ravishing dear.” Aziraphale said breathily reaching a hand up to Anthony’s face, gently brushing his high cheek bone tentatively with his thumb.

“Ngk.” Anthony repeated, his brain buffering, not able to form thoughts, his brain was short circuiting, that’s why his face was getting so hot.

“I feel a tad underdressed, if you’d give me a moment, I’ll, I can go upstairs and change.” Aziraphale said starting to reenter the bakery.

“N-No!” Anthony objected raising a hand to stop Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked at him with a start, stumbling against the door, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I mean, I mean to say that, you, you look stunning, exactly as you are. You look…” He trailed off a moment, looking Aziraphale up and down again, “You look perfectly you, which is perfect.” He murmured; his voice as thick as a honey spread.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows tilted up earnestly, “Oh, oh thank you.” He replied, his voice full of affection.

Anthony smiled, “Oi, I almost forgot.” He said.

Aziraphale watched as Anthony took his hand from behind his back, in it, was a bouquet of golden marigolds, tied with a blue ribbon.

“Oh, Anthony,” Aziraphale started, his voice wistful, his eyes watering, “this is so, so very thoughtful.” Aziraphale said after a few moments of silence as he took the bouquet from Anthony’s hands and held them up to admire them.

“Yeah, well, I try. Figured if I was to take you on a proper date, I should be wooing you at every turn before you realize your rotten end of the deal.” Anthony said with a forced laugh.

Aziraphale smiled and held the marigolds close to his chest, “Silly, I’ll be right back, I’ll go and put these in some water before we go, if that’s alright.” Aziraphale said reaching for the doorknob.

“Of course, of course. I’ll wait out here.” Anthony said smiling and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Aziraphale smiled once more and hurried the bouquet inside, he fumbled under the counter for a suitable vase, filling it partway with water before placing the marigolds inside and tenderly fingering the petals.

Anthony waited for Aziraphale to return, glad he liked the flowers, he had been indecisive on getting them, but then he really wanted to show Aziraphale a grand night.

Aziraphale returned at the door, and locked it behind him, “Well, let’s go along our way then.” He said starting to walk in the direction of his truck.

“Wait angel,” Anthony said gently reaching for Aziraphale’s hand to stop him from going further, “I’ll drive us, got the Bentley all cleaned just for you.” He said smiling crookedly, waiting for Aziraphale to fall into step with him.

“Um, do, do you remember the last time we tried, I tried, to accompany you in the Bentley? I-I was, I a-am t-too…” Aziraphale stammered off in utter embarrassment looking down, his hands pressing against the arch of his belly protectively, this was not how he wanted their date to start. He felt such shame in that memory resurfacing he wanted to sink beneath the concrete below him, the shame and embarrassment bubbling up and turning his face a shade of magenta.

“Angel.” Anthony’s voice was soft, full of concern.

Aziraphale looked up from the ground up at Anthony’s face, Anthony smiled at the big blue eyes looking up at him.

Anthony held his hand out to Aziraphale, “Do you trust me?” He asked tentatively, the question turning into ash in his mouth.

Aziraphale bit his lower lip, and raised his hand up, slipping it into Anthony’s, “Yes.” He said, a small smile making his lips twitch.

Anthony’s face broke into a grin and he entwined his long fingers through Aziraphale’s pudgy ones and led him to the Bentley.

Anthony opened the passenger door for Aziraphale with his free hand and gestured for him to sit down in the car.

Aziraphale swallowed his nerves and slid into the Bentley, once Aziraphale was settled in the seat Anthony smiled at him and shut the door. He walked around the car and scrambled into the driver’s seat, trying not to show how very excited he was.

Anthony shut the door behind him and turned to Aziraphale with one auburn eyebrow raised, “Are you ready to go angel?” He asked pulling his seat belt around himself and buckling it into place.

Aziraphale felt his pulse quicken, he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Anthony again, but he nodded his head and reached for the seat belt. He tentatively fingered the little plastic and metal buckle; he closed his eyes and pulled the seat belt across his torso. He opened his eyes in surprise as the seatbelt reached across his wide belly and chest and clicked into place.

Surprise painted Aziraphale’s features and he looked over to Anthony who was just smiling at him sweetly.

“What, what happened to the seatbelts? I know for a fact I haven’t gotten any smaller, probably got bigger since the last time to be honest.” Aziraphale said forcing a self-depreciating chuckle.

Anthony reached up, placing a hand on Aziraphale’s plush shoulder, “Nothing wrong with not getting smaller, or with getting bigger, so long as you’re still you, that’s all that matters.” Aziraphale blushed at the sentiment of Anthony’s words.

“As for the seatbelts, I had a mechanic friend that owed me a favor that happened to call me up. So, , I asked him if he could put in new seatbelts. The old ones weren’t safe anyway, practically threadbare, wouldn’t have stopped a scarecrow from being projectiled out of the windshield.” Anthony’s eyebrows were tilted upwards and a smile played across his lips.

Aziraphale was struck speechless for a moment, “Well, I’m glad you have a new safety apparatus to protect you and your passengers from being launched out of the vehicle on impact.” Aziraphale said with a smirk dancing across his lips.

Anthony barked a laugh and started up the Bentley and pulling into the street.

“If you want to listen to music, I have some CDs you can rifle through.” Anthony said nodding at the glove compartment.

Aziraphale opened the glove compartment and pulled out a handful of CDs in their cases, thumbing through them to see if there was anything that struck his interest.

“What’s a Velvet Underground?” He asked inspecting one case of a CD he hadn’t heard the name of before.

“Oh, you wouldn’t like it.” Anthony said waving his hand in the air.

“Bebop?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly.

Anthony barked a laugh, “Bebop?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, not too fond of bebop, but if you’d like to listen to it I could muster listening to a fast tempo, rapid chord changes, numerous key changes, and instrumental virtuosity.” Aziraphale responded with a raised eyebrow at Anthony’s reaction to him calling it bebop.

Anthony chuckled, trying to contain his giggles, “I’m sorry angel, your choice of words sometimes.” Anthony said shaking his head through peals of laughter.

“Oh really?” Aziraphale said, his tone trying to seem offended, but he was finding humor in Anthony’s reaction.

“If you lined up everybody in the world to describe The Velvet Underground, no one, at all would say bebop.” Anthony said through laughter.

Aziraphale tried to maintain an affronted expression, but his pursed lips broke into a smile and he chuckled along with Anthony as he placed the CD back in the glove compartment.

“We’re almost there anyways, wouldn’t even have time for one song.” Anthony said glancing from the road to Aziraphale and being struck once again at how beautiful he was.

“That was a quick drive then, was It close by anyway or were you speeding without me realizing it?” Aziraphale teased glancing over at the odometer.

“Little of both.” Anthony admitted with a chuckle.

Aziraphale tutted at him as Anthony began pulling the Bentley into the parking lot of a restaurant.

Aziraphale looked at the restaurant and was struck speechless for a moment, “Oh my word.” He murmured his gaze flitted from the decorative outskirts of the building to Anthony who was just gazing at him with a grin dancing across his lips.

“Clos Maggiore, why Anthony, this, this is very extravagant.” Aziraphale stuttered, very surprised at the dining choice Anthony chose.

“Well I wanted to woo you, sweep you off your feet, wine and dine you, and all that.” Anthony muttered embarrassed. Fuck all, of course this was too much too fast for him. This is one of, if not the most romantic restaurant in London, said to have more proposals in a week than the Eiffel Tower does in a month.

Aziraphale saw the blush creeping across Anthony’s face and how he started scratching at the center of the steering wheel. Aziraphale reached up and grasped Anthony’s fidgeting hand in his, Anthony jerked slightly, surprised at the physical contact.

“Anthony, I hope you know, that you don’t have to go to extreme lengths to woo me darling. Just gazing into your golden eyes accomplishes that. I am very flattered that you chose to bring me here, it makes me feel like you, like you like, enjoy my company.” Aziraphale said softly trying not to be presumptuous or to make Anthony was being brushed off.

Anthony gulped turning to face Aziraphale, “I more than, enjoy your company angel.” He stuttered.

Anthony took a deep breath trying to contain all of the emotions flooding inside of him. He wanted to lean closer and kiss Aziraphale, feel his luxurious lips against his, wanted to see how his kiss would taste on his tongue, wanted to feel his lips stretch into a smile against his own.

He also felt like he was going to explode any moment, admit to everything that was going on with his uncle and with Lucy’s, wanted to explain it all and beg forgiveness from all the misgivings that he has done to him.

He looked at Aziraphale’s face and took another deep breath and gave his hand a squeeze.

“If you would rather go somewhere else for dinner we can. But I really wanted to show you a good time.” Anthony admitted his mouth pulling into a wobbly smile and his eyebrows knitting together sweetly.

“I’ll follow you anywhere you’d like to go.” Aziraphale murmured, his blue eyes searching Anthony’s face.

Anthony broke out in a grin, “Well, we’re right on time for our reservation.” He unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and swiftly opened Aziraphale’s door for him. He extended a hand to help him out of the Bentley.

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale said taking Anthony’s hand and climbing out of the car. Anthony shut the door and locked the Bentley, and then he offered the crook of his arm to Aziraphale with a smile.

Aziraphale grinned back and slipped his arm through Anthony’s as they walked towards the entrance of Clos Maggiore.

They walked in step with each other, Anthony taking smaller strides to not make Aziraphale rush, and Aziraphale wrapping his arm tighter around Anthony’s as they walked past through the double entranced French doors.

When they entered Aziraphale’s mouth dropped at the beauty of the scenery hit every one of his senses. The entire ceiling was covered with cherry blossom branches, twining and reaching across the glass ceiling and the tiles, coming up from their pots on the floors. The pinks and whites of the flowers making the dining area brighter with the twinkling lights sparkling on them. Their reaching branches pointing down toward the intimate dining areas with small round tables covered in white linen tablecloths and candles and stretched toward the more teeming dining area with long rectangular tables covered in white linen tablecloths and candles. They stretched toward the stone fireplace and framed it with the dotting of pink and white.

The cherry blossoms sweet smells mixing with the rich aromas wafting through the dining hall, the deep rich aromas of basil, sage, parsley, marjoram, thyme all swirled together through the air and making Aziraphale’s mouth water.

Anthony glanced down at Aziraphale who looked as awestruck at the restaurant as he felt. This place was much more high class than he thought it would be when he googled ‘romantic restaurants in SoHo.’ Anthony felt nervous as he and Aziraphale walked to the hostess’ podium. They stopped in the line that was forming and he smiled quietly to himself as he peeked at Aziraphale looking at all the twinkling lights and flowers that adorned the area.

“Bonjour, welcome to Clos Maggiore, I am Natalia under what name is your reservation under?” The hostess asked when it was there turn.

“Crowley.” Anthony said, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke it aloud, automatically glancing around the room to make sure no one that knew his uncle, or his family was within earshot.

“Ah yes, table for two under the conservatory, right this way.” Natalia said smiling broadly as she led Anthony and Aziraphale across the dining hall and through another set of glass French doors.

“Oh Anthony,” Aziraphale murmured as he gazed at the room where their reservation was held in.

Anthony smiled, and tried to stay upright as they walked, he kept wanting to look at Aziraphale more than where he was going and that was going to cause a commotion If he kept it up.

“Here are your seats, here are your menus, the wine list, and your waiter will be here shortly to take your order.” Natalia said stopping at a table that was in a more intimate part of the room.

“Thank you.” Anthony said to her as she walked away.

Anthony turned his gaze to Aziraphale’s face and smiled as he unhooked himself from the crook of Aziraphale’s arm, “Here you go angel.” Anthony said pulling the chair out for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale turned a delightful shade of pink as he slid into the chair that Anthony held out for him. Anthony felt his heart clench as he walked to his chair and slid into it. He glanced at the décor on the table, a vase of pink chrysanthemums, candles, he looked up at Aziraphale and frowned. Though beautiful, the chrysanthemums were partially blocking his view of the beautiful man that was accompanying him.

“Angel, do you mind if I…” Anthony trailed off looking at Aziraphale, feeling lost being so far away with his view so obstructed.

“Mind if you what?” Aziraphale asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Um, er, mind if I…” Anthony trailed off and he scooted himself closer to Aziraphale, sitting now where their knees were brushing together under the tablecloth.

“Oh.” Aziraphale uttered, his mouth in a small o, his face turning pink again, “no, no I don’t m-mind.” Aziraphale stammered.

Anthony eased into his chair and he felt himself relax against the back of the chair, his pointy knee gently resting against Aziraphale’s soft one.

Aziraphale felt the heat blooming from the touch of Anthony’s knee against his and he tried not to swoon in his seat, at least not obviously. He looked at Anthony, who was looking at him, and they both blushed a brilliant shade of red and looked away at the same time.

Aziraphale looked up at the glass ceiling, the cherry blossom and fairy light adorned conservatory made the glass ceiling almost invisible, the weather a bit too nippy to retract the glass roof. Instead the fireplace had gentle waves of heat rolling from it onto the patrons around it. The firelight illuminating the gentle fiery tones in the room. Aziraphale’s eyes flickered to Anthony’s new pompadour and he beamed.

Anthony grinned as he watched Aziraphale take in the ambiance of the room, he propped his elbow on the table and cupped his cheek in his hand and gazed at Aziraphale, his blue eyes sparkling in the twinkling lights around the room. The fire of the fireplace illuminating the golden strands of his hair. Anthony wanted to reach up and run his fingers through his curls, wanted to cup his sweet cheeks in his hand and brush his thumb against it, wanted to press his lips against his.

He sighed as he looked at Aziraphale, he could do this for eternity and then some, just look at him, gaze at his beauty, he smiled to himself as Aziraphale’s eyes flitted around. He felt a blush flash onto his face when Aziraphale’s eyes met his.

Aziraphale’s eyes glanced downward and he smiled shyly, it was odd to him, that Anthony looked at him in such a way, in such a way that made him feel treasured. He glanced back up and though he was still blushing, almost matching the color of his hair, he was still gazing at Aziraphale like he was something precious.

“Anthony…”

“Aziraphale…” They both started at the same time, and they laughed.

“Hello, welcome to Clos Maggiore, have you two had a chance to look over the menu yet? Or perhaps the wine list? Our extensive and impressive cellar includes over twenty-five hundred selections from eighteen different countries and vintages spanning four centuries.” A waiter popped at their table out of nowhere, flourishing the wine list and fluttering the pages of it as he spoke, surprising Anthony so much he jumped in his seat.

“Oh, my that is an impressive collection.” Aziraphale said, surprised again at Anthony’s choice of dining.

“I’ll give you both another moment to decide on what you’d like.” The waiter said with a smile and walking away briskly to the next table.

“Goodness, I don’t know where to begin.” Aziraphale murmured looking between the menu and the wine book.

“I have an idea angel; you pick the food and I’ll pick the wine.” Anthony said with an eyebrow cocked up a mischievous smile on his face and wiggling a menu in his hands.

“That sounds marvelous.” Aziraphale said handing the wine book over to Anthony as he took the menu from his long fingers.

Aziraphale thumbed through the menu, glancing at the various delicious delectable items the menu listed, “How do you feel about oysters? I hear they do remarkable things to oysters.” Aziraphale asked, a smile dancing across his lips.

Anthony pursed his lips as he thought about this, turning the pages in the wine book.

“I’ve never eaten an oyster.” He mused as his fingers fluttered over the wine list, wine book really, hundred pages long and all with names he could barely pronounce.

“You simply must try them, let me see…” Aziraphale said his gaze flickering over the menu.

“Oh dear, looks like they only have oysters when they’re in season. Bother, we’ll just have to try something new then.” Aziraphale said glancing up at Anthony and smiling bashfully.

Anthony longed to reach for Aziraphale’s hand, instead he leaned toward him slightly, only enough to make it seem as if it were an accident, his knee gently pressed against Aziraphale’s, ever so softly so the pointiness of it wouldn’t bruise his beautiful plush skin. But enough so he could get more warmth, more contact from him.

Aziraphale didn’t look up but the blush spreading across his face, making his freckles stand out made Anthony smile.

Anthony was beginning to get frustrated at the extensive wine list, he wanted to woo Aziraphale, but he didn’t want his anxiety and other neurodivergent traits to take over and make him either obsess over the perfect wine and get overwhelmed, and he also didn’t want to pick something completely obtuse that screamed “I’m a cheap date and I don’t care.” He growled quietly to himself in frustration, he didn’t want to ruin this date by popping his anxiety pills or being in the bathroom crying over a stupid wine list.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony and his eyebrows drew together in concern. Anthony was staring intently at the wine list muttering to himself and growling.

“has to be a good wine has to be a good wine.” He muttered under his breath as he flipped through the pages of the wine book with both hands, searching for the perfect wine for their evening.

Everything broke away and zeroed in on him as Anthony felt a plump hand on his knee. Anthony wide eyed looked down at the area where he was feeling the sensation of the touch and saw Aziraphale’s sweet plush hand was tentatively, and gently placed on Anthony’s narrow knee.

His gaze darted from Aziraphale’s hand and up to the baker’s face, Anthony felt his mouth pull into a sloppy wobbly grin as Aziraphale’s furiously blushing face looked back at him, his celestial blue eyes shimmering in the light.

“Dearest, I really don’t mind the type of wine. You pick something you would like, and I am positive I will also enjoy it. I am still reeling from the fact that you chose this restaurant, that I’m in this restaurant, that you wanted to come to this restaurant with me, and that I am here with you on a d-date. The wine quality is the furthest thing on my mind right now.” Aziraphale murmured gently, his thumb brushing against the side of Anthony’s knee.

“Ngk.” Anthony said with a gulp, all coherent words lost on him for a moment.

“Wh-wha-what is the cl-closest thing on your mind?” He asked, once thoughts were able to form coherently, his lips seeming to stick together, his mouth dry all of a sudden.

Aziraphale smirked, “That, my dear, you’ll find out towards the end of the evening.” He raised his eyebrows conspicuously.

Anthony threw his head back and barked a laugh, his hand hitting the tabletop making the silverware and water glasses rattle.

Aziraphale chuckled and raised an eyebrow at Anthony, certain that he was calmer than before and flitted his eyes coyly back to the menu.

Anthony gaped at Aziraphale for a moment and grinned, he turned his attention back to the bloody wine menu and started looking for the wine.

“Have you gentlemen decided what you’d like?” The waiter asked popping up in between them, raising an eyebrow slightly at Anthony’s chair being moved closer to Aziraphale but he didn’t say anything.

Aziraphale looked from the waiter to Anthony and gave him a half smile, “I’m ready, are you dear?” Anthony nodded, gulped and picked the first wine at the top of the page he was on.

“Yes, for to drink, for the wine pick, choice, we’d like the 1807 Condrieu Mathilde et Yves Gangloff.” Anthony stuttered the words out, mentally laughing to himself because the wine sounded like a wizard character from a book turned movie trilogy he used to be fond of.

“Excellent choice, would you like a bottle as well to take home with you?” The waiter asked glancing up from his pocket pad to Anthony.

Anthony didn’t even look at the price of the bottle to take home before saying yes, if anything Aziraphale could keep it for his collection, or if things went wrong toward the end of the evening, Anthony could use it to drown his grief. Anthony’s eye twitched as he tried to get the thoughts of the mission and his uncle out of his head.

“And what would you gentlemen like for your meal?” The waiter asked, his gaze flicking from Aziraphale to Anthony and back.

“I think we’d like to order from the Al La Carte Menu,” Aziraphale started looking over at Anthony to make sure he was okay with the order, Anthony just smiled at Aziraphale, not worried a bit over what food he was about to order. He could order the smallest little escargot, or he could order the biggest roast pheasant, Anthony didn’t care. He wanted this date to be perfect, and he wanted Aziraphale to be happy.

“What starters would you like?” The waiter asked glancing between the two of them.

Anthony just raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale, letting him order whatever he wanted, whatever sounded good, he trusted him with his order as well.

“We would like the Salad of Roasted guinea fowl and morels, and the Marcellin’s Heritage shoulder of Lorie Valley Rabbit.” Aziraphale said glancing at Anthony again to make sure the order was not too much.

“The Salad comes with green asparagus and walnut vinaigrette and aged parmesan, and the Marcellin’s Heritage comes with sweet and sour black radish, and wholegrain mustard mousseline. What would you like as an entrée sirs?” The waiter asked glancing again between Anthony and Aziraphale as he scribbled the order down.

“For the entrees we would like the Pan roasted south coast wild sea bass and Dorset crab croquette, and the honey roasted breast of Goosnargh duck and confit leg pastilla.” Aziraphale’s eyes glanced from the menu to Anthony to make sure this wouldn’t be too extravagant of an order, or too greedy of an order, if it was, he could always slip the waiter some money as well.

Anthony’s lip twitched upward, “Goosnargh? What in the hell is that?” He blurted out before his brain could filter it.

The waiter looked at him somewhat disdainfully, Aziraphale couldn’t hide the grin that broke out across his face.

“Goosnargh duck is a cross between Aylesbury and Peking duck, which gives the best meat to bone balance with a good breast weight in particular. Do you two happen to know what you would like for dessert?” The waiter asked after he droned about what Goosnargh duck was.

“Hmm, these all look so good, it’s hard to choose.” Aziraphale mused to himself as he surveyed the dessert page of the menu. Anthony couldn’t help the thought that flitted through his mind comparing Aziraphale’s lips to a decadent dessert.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked looking up at Anthony from his pretty blond eyelashes.

“I think that I better not say what I’m thinking, or I’ll sound like a total knob.” Anthony muttered, not realizing he spoke it aloud until he heard Aziraphale’s tittering laugh.

“Oi, Do you have a tasting menu for the dessert? Ya know a little of everything to try? That’d be swell.” Anthony said blushing turning his gaze up to the waiter.

“Yes we do, it includes a serving size of each dessert on the menu, which consists of Clos Maggiore Carmelised Valrhona Chocolate Sensation with burnt honey ice cream and Armagnac jelly, Greek yogurt and lemon zest mousse yuzu curd and honeycomb with lime and almond sponge and blackcurrant sorbet, the English raspberries and citrus tart with light coriander cream and lemon sorbet, Conference Pear poached in Tonka bean syrup with Williamine almond and hazelnut praline with sautéed caramel ice cream, and finally a soft nougat glace and sicilian pistachio biscuit with Seville blood orange sorbet.” The waiter rattled the desserts and Anthony’s gaze flitted back to Aziraphale, who was sitting there looking like he had just been handed a best Christmas gift in the world, making him not hear a word after lemon zest.

“Sounds great, yeah we’ll take the lot on a tasting thingy.” Anthony said trying not to let his nerves take over and make him stutter and shaky.

“Very well sirs, I’ll be bringing out the wine shortly, do let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” The waiter said smiling at the pair before walking off to the kitchen to drop off their order.

Aziraphale’s eyes flitted over the restaurant and he sighed with a smile, the surroundings were so beautiful, he gaze drifted from the glass ceiling and twinkling lights to Anthony, who was sitting there opposite him just gazing at him, his mouth pulled into a wobbly smile.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale scolded shyly, a blush beginning to bloom on his face.

“Wot?” Anthony yelped, worried that he had committed some faux pas that he was unaware of. His hand dropping from his cupped chin and onto the tabletop.

“You’re staring at me.” Aziraphale said in a tone which suggested that he knew no reason of why Anthony would be even looking in this direction.

“If it’s bothering you I can stop, but…” Anthony trailed off dragging his hand across his mouth a blush starting across his own face.

“But?” Aziraphale asked, an eyebrow quirking upward.

“But, I, You, you’re,” Anthony stuttered a moment before taking a deep breath, “You’re so beautiful and I don’t wanna take my eyes off you.” He said this all in such a quick succession Aziraphale had to take a moment for all the words to process.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything for a moment, and Anthony felt his face turn a darker and darker shade of red, almost matching the color of his hair.

“You’re too kind Anthony.” Aziraphale said gently, he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would be unable to contain the proclamations of love that he wanted to decree to Anthony in front of everyone in the restaurant.

“So, if it’s bothering you I’ll stop, but if you don’t mind…” Anthony trailed off and reached up to grasp Aziraphale’s soft hand in his bony one.

Aziraphale felt Anthony’s hand squeeze his and a warmth spread through him starting at his fingertips and weaving through his hand and arm until it was coursing through his entire body.

Anthony nearly toppled out of his chair when he felt Aziraphale’s sweetly plump grasp squeeze his hand back, his eyes shot from looking down at his lap and up to Aziraphale’s face.

“It, it’s not bothering me. I’m just, not accustomed to people staring at me in such a way.” Aziraphale murmured his thumb gently brushing against the sharpness of Anthony’s hand.

“In what way?” Anthony questioned, not wanting to be coming off as some nutter that’s just staring at Aziraphale.

“Like, like I’m something, someone, that is, treasured.” Aziraphale said haltingly, as if he couldn’t quite form the words that he wanted to say, like it was hard for him to admit that he hadn’t been around, with someone that ever made him feel wanted.

Anthony’s gaze slid over Aziraphale’s gentle face like a sweet caress, “Aziraphale, you are,”

“Here you are sirs, the wine for the evening, and the starters.” The waiter appeared out of nowhere presenting Aziraphale and Anthony each with a glass of deep red wine and he placed the dishes with the salad and the rabbit onto the table, startling both men.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale said smiling up at the waiter.

“Yeah, right, thanks.” Anthony muttered, annoyed at the timing the waiter seemed to have tonight. At least he was keeping him from making an idiot out of himself.

“I’ll be back shortly with the entrees.” The waiter said with a smile.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony and smiled sheepishly. Anthony shook his head and sighed, “Well, we better start eating before they rush out the rest of the food and we don’t know where to start.” Anthony said with a shrug.

Aziraphale chuckled, “I suppose you’re right. Well, let’s try that wine that you picked out.” He said with a smile.

Anthony rolled his eyes and he and Aziraphale simultaneously let their hands fall apart as they reached for the wine glasses.

“What should we toast to?” Anthony mused an eyebrow raised as well as the wineglass.

Aziraphale mused with pursed lips for a moment, “Well perhaps we should toast to, to new friends.” He suggested, an uptilt to his voice.

Anthony thought on that a moment, “Well, what about to new beginnings, new starts?” Anthony suggested, the thought of the admission he still needed to confess on the tip of his tongue. Suggesting a hopeful ending to the end of the conversation that was yet to come.

“That sounds just splendid.” Aziraphale said with a smile, clinking his glass against Anthony’s.

They sipped the wine, letting the flavor dance over their tongues, Aziraphale couldn’t help but let a small titter of pleasure flit through his lips as the elegant wine swirled along his taste buds.

“Oh, Anthony this is such a lovely wine, magnificent choice dear.” Aziraphale said smiling broadly across the table at Anthony.

Anthony lips curled into a smile as he swallowed the wine he had sipped, it wasn’t bad, so he knew Aziraphale wasn’t just saying it to make him feel good.

“Well, let’s see if your choices were just as good.” Anthony said nodding at the salad and rabbit that were waiting for them on the table.

“Of course, which would you like to have dear, I’ll take what you don’t want, I have no preference, it all sounded so lovely it was hard to choose just these two.” Aziraphale said waving a hand and taking another sip of wine.

Anthony frowned, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Aziraphale should be getting everything he wanted, all the wine, food, dessert, flowers, everything he could want. He reached for the salad plates that were stacked next to the salad for them to use and he grabbed one of his forks and began scooping some of the salad onto the salad plate. Once a small portion was on the plate, he traded the salad for the rabbit and took a small helping of that as well. He didn’t want much of the food in general, his stomach in a Gordian Knot and he didn’t want to make it worse with a lot of food.

“There, I’ll take this plate, and you take the rest, that way we can both try each ting.” Anthony said smiling sheepishly at Aziraphale, though he must be looking like a nutter splitting the food up like that.

“Oh.” Aziraphale said surprised.

He looked up at Anthony, who was smiling at him earnestly, and his eyes flitted to the plates that Anthony had nudged toward his side of the table. They were both the lion’s share of the appetizers, Anthony’s own portion very minimal. Aziraphale tried not to fret but he nibbled at his lower lip, thoughts flitting through his mind that were not the kindest. He shook his head trying to make the unkind thoughts silence themselves.

He reached for his fork and speared some of the salad, carefully getting a bite with some of the walnut vinaigrette onto the greens as well as a bit of guinea, morels, and aged parmesan, he wanted to have the first bite be perfect without being too much to fit into his mouth.

He glanced at Anthony who was stabbing his own forkful of salad. Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a bite of the salad.

Anthony watched Aziraphale take his first bite of salad, his heart beating hard in his chest at the look of pleasure on his face as he let the taste dance over his tongue. His ears perked as he heard a small moan escape between Aziraphale’s lips as he savored the taste of the salad. Anthony grinned and put his own bite of salad in his mouth, he tilted his head to the side as he processed the taste. It wasn’t bad, a bit of fowl, a bit of mushrooms, the walnut vinaigrette was an interesting mix that he wasn’t expecting. Luckily it didn’t resemble peanut butter in texture or taste.

“Oh, this is absolutely delectable.” Aziraphale said breathily as he gathered another bite of salad onto his fork.

“Agreed, I was a bit worried that the walnut vinaigrette would resemble peanut butter, so I’m very glad that isn’t the case.” Anthony said teasing Aziraphale.

Aziraphale chuckled and took another bite of his salad, spearing some asparagus and crunching it between his teeth delicately.

Anthony’s gaze kept flitting between the plate and Aziraphale as they continued eating their appetizers, the rabbit was just as good, if not better than the salad, juicy and tender with just the right amount of seasoning the sweet and sour black radish and mustard mousseline combining into a perfect triad of taste.

“That was just fantastic, I can’t begin to imagine what the main courses will taste like if these were so good.” Aziraphale said dabbing his lips with a napkin once his plates were clear.

“Agreed.” Anthony said taking a sip of wine.

It seemed as if their agreeance in the good meal summoned the waiter who cleared their plates and then brought them the sea bass, and Goosnargh duck.

“Once you are done with this I will be bringing by the desserts. Is there anything else I can get you at this time?” He asked glancing between Anthony and Aziraphale.

“Could I possibly get an extra plate?” Anthony asked looking up at the waiter.

“Of course, be right back.” The waiter disappeared and reappeared a moment later with an extra plate that he handed to Anthony.

“Thanks mate.” Anthony said taking the plate from him.

He glanced at Aziraphale who was looking at him curiously.

“They don’t give extra plates with entrees like they do salad. Now I can split these up so we can each try both.” He said with a sheepish smile.

“Ah of course, good thinking. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on the Goosnargh.” Aziraphale said with a smirk.

Anthony laughed as he took a little serving from each plate including the dorset crab croquette, and the confit leg pastilla and he placed the plate in front of himself and nudged the two remaining plates towards Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s mouth pulled into a frown, once again noting that the plates that Anthony had pushed towards him were once again the major percentage of the dishes that were brought to them. He stared at the plates for a moment, trying to keep the increasingly loud humming noise in his mind to silence, willing it to stop. Echoes of past comments on his weight sounding in his mind, insecurities whirling in a continuous loop, refusing to be silenced.

Anthony noticed that Aziraphale had fallen silent and he looked up at him, the angelic face was pulled into a look of discontent, and a hint of something else that Anthony was having trouble identifying. Anthony’s gaze dropped to Aziraphale’s hands on the tablecloth, gently and minutely flattening the cloth over and over.

Anthony reached a long arm across the small space between them and placed his hand on top of the stirring plump hand of Aziraphale, startling him out of the trance he was in.

“’Ziraphale?” He asked gently, looking over the top of his sunglasses.

Aziraphale’s fingers tittered under Anthony’s touch as Aziraphale gave a somewhat sad smile.

“It, it’s nothing, just something silly that popped into my head.” Aziraphale said with a fake smile that was far from convincing.

Anthony bit his lip a moment, “It’s not nothing, or it wouldn’t be bothering you. You seem bothered by something, what is it?” He asked treading carefully.

Aziraphale’s hand stilled under Anthony’s touch and he looked up meeting Anthony’s gaze.

“I, I can’t help, but to notice that your ah, that my, that my serving of everything thus far has been more, much more, than yours. And I am quite sure you aren’t meaning it to be in a cruel way but,” he paused, his eyes clenching closed and his free hand going up to the side of his head, fluttering by his ear, “in my mind, the thoughts that are bubbling up, they are not kind ones. And I am trying to ignore them, but they are, quite loud.” Aziraphale admitted in a painful tone of voice.

Anthony frowned, his lower lip puckering out, and he felt a pang in his heart, he wasn’t even trying to make Aziraphale feel bad, but here he was mucking shit up like usual. He sighed and growled slightly to himself and took a breath and let it out slowly.

“Aziraphale,” he said firmly.

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze, his eyes a tad watery.

“First of all, I’m sorry for upsetting you, unintentionally or not, I am sorry. I would never want to hurt you in any way and I’m sorry that it didn’t even cross my mind that you would feel offended or upset. I did give you bigger portions on purpose, but not because I was trying to insinuate anything or use it as a secret dig. I did it because I know you enjoy food,”

“It is rather obvious.” Aziraphale said interrupting his gaze downcast to his wide middle.

Anthony gave a pained grunt, he wanted to kill everyone that had ever said anything to Aziraphale to make him feel like garbage about his beautiful self and for enjoying food.

“’Ziraphale,” Anthony started again somewhat strained, “I know, I know you enjoy food, especially fine food, and there is nothing wrong with that. That’s one reason I chose this restaurant, because it’s fancy and nice, and romantic and I wanted to show you a good time, wanted to woo you, wanted to give you all the things that would make you happy and that includes yummy food. I wanted you to have as much of it as you wanted because I know you enjoy it, and that it’s good.” He took in a breath trying to keep from babbling, he started brushing his thumb against Aziraphale’s hand gently.

Aziraphale gave a wobbly smile, “I know you didn’t mean it to be cruel.” He said gently.

Anthony shook his head, “No I didn’t, and of course you don’t have to eat everything I shove your way, only what you want.”

Aziraphale gave a slight nod.

Anthony took in another breath and reached his long arm across the table and gently wrapped his other hand around Aziraphale’s other hand that was still wavering in the air next to his ear. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as Anthony twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s.

“Aziraphale, those voices in your head, those mean memories, I know it can be hard to ignore them, hard to not believe them.” Anthony said gently.

Aziraphale took in a sharp breath, “It can be hard, especially because they’re right, I am f-fat.” He cursed himself for stumbling over the word, for giving it more power to hurt him.

Anthony tilted his head to the side, his golden eyes meeting Aziraphale’s blue one, “Aziraphale,” he murmured, “You are fat, and there is nothing wrong with being fat. I know that everyone and everything says different, and that the world tries to ingrain it into your mind that it’s a bad thing. But it isn’t a bad thing, it’s just another thing about you, nothing more significant than your eyes being blue, or your hair being blonde. I know it’s a hard thing to unlearn those things, but you can’t, can’t let them bring you down and consume you. Being fat, having fat, it’s just something that some people will tell you is bad, or unhealthy, or unattractive, and those people are bloody idiots Because I don’t know how someone can look at you, can see you, and not think you’re the most beautiful person in the whole bloody world.”

Aziraphale gulped, he was suddenly very aware of how closely Anthony was leaning into him, how warm his hands were over his, how soft his fingers were threading through his, how his cologne spiked with each slight movement he made. His mouth suddenly went dry and he felt his heart clench in his chest, felt it start to beat faster and faster. He felt a blush rise in his face, tinging every inch of skin bright pink. He tilted his head slightly to the side and took in a shaky breath.

“That is, very kind of you.” Aziraphale said, his voice breathy.

Anthony let one of Aziraphale’s hands go, and he brought his hand up to his tender face, “I’m not saying it to be kind angel.” He murmured, brushing his thumb against Aziraphale’s plump cheek, “I’m saying it because it’s true, and because I think you are utterly the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life.”

Aziraphale felt like he was floating, that the butterflies in his stomach had taken flight and had taken him with them. He looked at Anthony’s face, his eyes searching the angular face and golden eyes, his eyes flickered to his lips and he was suddenly very aware of how close he was to Anthony, how close his lips were.

Anthony saw Aziraphale’s eyes flicker to his lips and he licked them subconsciously. He wanted to lean closer, wanted to press his lips gently against the plush pink lips that were getting closer and closer.

“Are your dishes not satisfactory?” A voice said startling them from behind Anthony startling the pair, their hands dropping onto the tabletop.

Anthony jumped banging his knee on the table, he growled holding back a curse word as he turned to look at the waiter.

“Thank you for checking, we haven’t had a chance to try it just yet, but we are doing just fine, thank you.” Aziraphale said, his voice a higher pitch than usual.

The waiter nodded and walked away without saying anything else.

Anthony’s head dropped, and his shoulders began shaking, “I swear, every time we start having an intimate moment, we get interrupted.” He said through laughter.

Aziraphale started laughing with Anthony, “To get a moment of privacy we will need to leave or else we will keep being asked how we like this and that.” He said leaning back in his chair, a hand resting on his belly as he laughed.

“Well let’s get this eaten so we can hit the road.” Anthony said grabbing his fork and shoving a bite of the sea bass into his mouth.

Aziraphale laughed and he reached for the plates that Anthony had previously nudged his way and began to eat at the duck.

Anthony wanted to eat quickly so he could admire Aziraphale, who was savoring every bite that he took. Anthony nearly fell out of his chair when Aziraphale gave a little moan as he took a bite of the sea bass.

“This is all so scrumptious.” Aziraphale said once the plates were cleared of food.

He looked up to see Anthony leaning towards him, resting his chin on his fist, a smile playing across his lips.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it angel, I thought it was pretty good too, now we just gotta wait for dessert, which knowing how that waiter has been he’ll probably show up when I try to snog you or something.” Anthony said with a laugh.

As Aziraphale processed what Anthony had said the waiter did indeed arrive to take away the dinner plates, and bring the dessert sampler.

“Aw now isn’t this cute, little pastries and dollops of ice cream.” Anthony said looking at the little platter of different desserts.

“Which would you like angel? You take all the ones you would like.” Anthony said grinning at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “Now surely you want some, which ones would you like dear?” He asked Anthony with a smirk.

Anthony shrugged, “I will take whatever you don’t want.”

Aziraphale chuckled, he reached for the extra small plates that the waiter had brought them, and began meticulously cutting each dessert in half and scooping up the ice creams placing it on Anthony’s plate.

“There, now we can each try each dessert.” Aziraphale said a laugh in his voice.

“You took my line there.” Anthony said with a laugh pointing at Aziraphale with his fork.

“And I’ll do it again.” Aziraphale said sipping at the wine before starting to work on the desserts.

They each tried each dessert and Aziraphale gushed over each one, Anthony just felt over the moon watching Aziraphale enjoy the desserts.

“I daresay that was all so utterly delicious, which one was your favorite dear?” Aziraphale asked glancing up at Anthony.

“I liked the lemon zesty one best, what about you angel?” He asked cocking an eyebrow up at Aziraphale.

“I think the Carmelised Valrhona Chocolate Sensation with burnt honey ice cream was my favorite, though the lemon zesty one was quite good.” He said with a chuckle shooting Anthony a teasing glance.

Anthony laughed and propped his elbow on the table cupping his chin in his hand swaying from side to side as he gazed at the smile on Aziraphale’s face.

“I daresay the I don’t know how we will get out of here to go home.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle as he patted his lips with the napkin.

“Well, I have something else planned for the evening, are you feeling up to it? No pesky waiters to interrupt us.” Anthony said waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Aziraphale blushed, “So long as you give me a chance to digest, I am positively stuffed.” Aziraphale said with a laugh and a gentle pat to his midsection.

“I promise nothing too strenuous; I need to digest too.” Anthony said with a laugh.

The waiter stopped by the table to deliver the check, Anthony took the check and reached for his back pocket

“Oh Anthony, this is all so extravagant, I do appreciate it, but do let me contribute to the bill, I would hate to imagine how much this will all cost and I’m not worth you going flat broke over a meal.” Aziraphale insisted earnestly, his eyebrows tipping upward.

“Nope, I’m taking you out to woo you, not to have you go Dutch on a meal. You won’t get your way on this one, no matter how much you pout those lips out.” Anthony teased as he popped his card into the waiter’s book and handed it off to the waiter before Aziraphale could sneak some money or a card in there too.

Aziraphale pouted and put his hands on his hips, “Well that’s not very sporting.” He said fighting a smile.

“Told you, I’m wooing you, try to thwart me all you like, but I am doing my best wooing tonight.” Anthony said with a chuckle as the waiter returned with Anthony’s card.

“Thank you so much for the excellent service mate, really.” Anthony said as he stood from the table. He took one long step to Aziraphale’s chair and pulled his chair out slightly and helped him stand.

“Yes, dear boy, you were splendid, thank you so very much for being so attentive to our needs.” Aziraphale said shooting a wink at Anthony.

Anthony tried to disguise a laugh with a cough into his shoulder and he clapped both hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Thank you, sirs, don’t forget your Condrieu Mathilde et Yves Gangloff.” He said nodding toward the bottle of wine still on the table before walking away.

Anthony grabbed his wallet out and pulled out several bills and left them on the table tucked under the vase of chrysanthemums and grabbed the bottle of wine in one hand and held his other hand out for Aziraphale, “Ready to go angel?” He asked his eyebrows tilting upward.

Aziraphale beamed and nodded his head, letting his hand slip into Anthony’s free one as they began walking toward the exit of the restaurant. Taking in the last looks of the restaurant’s beautiful cherry blossoms and twinkling lights.

Anthony glanced at Aziraphale as they walked to the door, the lights illuminating him and making him glow. Anthony smiled and gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze. His heart nearly burst out of his chest when Aziraphale squeezed back.

They went through the exit doors and headed toward the Bentley, Anthony reaching the passenger door before Aziraphale and holding the door open for him.

“Thank you my dear.” Aziraphale said with a fluttering smile.

Anthony grinned and shut the door for Aziraphale and then walked over to the driver’s side and climbed in the door, folding his limbs onto themselves. He placed the wine bottle between the two of them and turned the key into the ignition and pulled out of the parking spot.

“Where are we heading dear?” Aziraphale asked a smile behind his voice.

Anthony grinned, “Do you have a curfew tonight angel?” He asked with a chuckle.

Aziraphale laughed, “No of course I don’t.” He said clapping his hands on his thighs with a laugh.

“Well then, how do you feel about a stroll in the park?” He asked reaching his hand across the seat and placing it gently on Aziraphale’s giving it a soft squeeze.

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Aziraphale said lacing his pudgy fingers through Anthony’s slender ones.

Anthony grinned and tried to not speed through the streets, he knew exactly where he wanted to take Aziraphale next.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second half of Aziraphale and Crowley's first official date.   
> A moonlit stroll through St. James Park full of sweet romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will there be sweet talk?  
> Romance?  
> Hand holding?  
> Embraces?  
> Kisses??

Chapter 22

Anthony pulled into the parking area of St. James Park, and as he turned off the car he turned to look at Aziraphale hesitantly, he didn’t want to let go of his hand, even for a moment. Aziraphale glanced up at him from their entwined fingers and he smiled, the same thought flitting through his head.

Anthony frowned and sighed, “I don’t want to let go of your hand, but I’ll have to so’s I can get out.” Aziraphale chuckled, “We could sit here in the car, though I suppose our legs may get a bit cramped.”

Anthony groaned and let go of Aziraphale’s hand and swiftly exited the car and practically sprinted around the Bentley to open the door for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale giggled as Anthony reached his hand out to help him out of the car.

“Thank you.” He said unfolding from the car and standing upright, straightening out his clothes with a tug.

“Shall we?” Anthony asked gesturing to the gravel walkway that wound through the park the stars and moonlight shining on the path.

Aziraphale smiled sweetly up at Anthony and tucked his arm into the crook of his elbow and they walked step in step down the winding footpath.

As they walked along the path the gravel crunched under their feet, the only sound breaking the silence in the air besides their gentle breathing.

Aziraphale kept stealing glances up at Anthony, studying how the moonlight flickered shadows and light across his face with every step, how the silver light shone on his hair and made the red darker and shimmering.

Anthony smiled hearing Aziraphale’s soft sighs as they walked along the path. The park was silent except for the wind whispering through the leaves, birds cooing to one another, and their footsteps atop the gravel. No need to rush along the path in fear of being run over by joggers, no need to dance around small children hazardously zipping along the path, no dogs to sidestep. It was just them, and they could take all the time they needed.

They had been walking arm in arm for an undeterminable amount of time when they reached a bench that sat near the duck pond.

“Feel like sitting for a spell?” Anthony asked Aziraphale, his legs were getting a bit tired, and he could only imagine how the baker’s shorter legs were feeling.

“Oh, you’ve read my mind.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle.

Anthony led the way to the bench and flourished his hands, presenting it to Aziraphale, making him giggle. Anthony and Aziraphale sat on the bench facing the duck pond, seeing a couple ducks lazily drifting atop the still waters.

Aziraphale sat up nice and straight, as if he were in primary school again being graded on his posture, sitting up prim and proper, his hands clasped together at the top curve of his belly, and Anthony sat next to him a retired marionette of limbs piled on the bench, one arm slung over the back of it. Their legs were resting against each other, gently touching, the warmth radiating up their legs.

Anthony glanced from the pond scenery to Aziraphale, the moonlight was making his curls glow a gentle golden shade streaks of silver light highlighting them. His blue eyes were twinkling like the stars above them.

Aziraphale glanced up at Anthony and he blushed, seeing that his mouth was agape, looking at him. His hands started flattening his clothes and fiddling with his buttons, “What is it? Do I have something on my face?” He asked him, his brows furrowing in concern as he wiped at his face.

Anthony shook his head slightly and closed his mouth chuckling, “N-nothing angel.” He said nervously running a hand along his mouth, trying to rearrange his mouth to not be flopping open in awe.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Aziraphale asked softly an eyebrow raised in confusion.

Anthony turned to look at Aziraphale, his gaze immediately dropping from the beautiful man next to him and his mouth dropping open again and shaking his head slightly smiling at the ground.

“I just,” He started and then he looked back up at Aziraphale, “I just can’t believe my luck, being here with you.” He said turning towards him and reaching a hand toward Aziraphale’s plump hand that was resting at the top of his belly. Butterflies flapping madly in his stomach at the briefest touch of contact he made with his soft hand.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured gently, his eyes wide at the admission.

“You’re just, the most, wonderful person I’ve ever met in my life, and I-I’m so happy that you’re here with me tonight.” He said this in a voice so gently, afraid that he may admit something else to him that he wasn’t ready to say yet.

Aziraphale felt a wave of warmth hum through him at Anthony’s words, he felt his heartbeat quicken and his flutter. Anthony’s hand covered his gently, the long fingers overlapping his own fingers and brushing against his belly. He smiled and looked from Anthony’s hand to his face, his golden eyes hidden by the sunglasses perched on his nose, and he frowned.

“And it’s, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, about me, I’d understand, I’m nothing special, I just, wanted you to know that I think you’re wonderful.” Anthony sputtered seeing the frown dancing on Aziraphale’s lips.

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed, trying to register what Anthony said, “Oh no dear, that’s not it. I am, I,” Aziraphale sighed trying to get his thoughts together.

He turned his torso towards Anthony and slid his hand out from under Anthony’s and raised it to delicately grasp the arm of the sunglasses, his eyes searching Anthony’s face, “May I?” He asked quietly.

Anthony gave a minute nod.

Aziraphale carefully slid the sunglasses off Anthony’s face, careful not to bump his nose or tug his ears. He kept gazing at Anthony’s face as he folded glasses and placed them in his breast pocket. Anthony blinked a couple times, his eyes adjusting to their surroundings, though not bright they were still brighter than with the sunglasses. When his eyes were properly adjusted, he looked at Aziraphale and his mouth slid into a gentle smile.

“Ah, there you are, perfect.” Aziraphale murmured gazing up into Anthony’s golden eyes, his hands tentatively fluttering at his torso.

Anthony felt a blush burn across his face.

“’M not perfect.” He muttered looking down at his lap, the rolling feeling in his gut counteracting Aziraphale’s sweetness.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed again, and he fluttered his hands tentatively, and then he gently placed them on each of Anthony’s cheeks bringing his head up, cupping his angular face in his soft hands, his padded thumbs clasping him at his sharp cheekbones, brushing along the angular lines carefully.

“You’re magnificent.” Aziraphale breathed hardly daring to make a noise louder than a whisper.

Anthony gazed into Aziraphale’s deep blue eyes, the moon making them glimmer like the stars above them. His kind words making an ache go through Anthony’s chest, threatening to tear through him until it escaped between his lips and told Aziraphale everything that he was truly. A traitor, a coward, nothing better than a snake in the grass.

He breathed in a ragged breath, trying to calm his racing pulse down.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony, blue eyes and golden eyes swirling together in a trance of their gaze.

Aziraphale felt a pull, and he leaned closer to Anthony his hands sliding to cradle his face, his fingertips brushing the edges of his soft auburn hair, his thumbs tracing his cheeks. Aziraphale tilted his head slightly, he was tentative, waiting, questioning. He didn’t want to take anything that he wasn’t entitled to.

Desire flickered in Anthony’s eyes, and he reached up, his slender hand reaching up, cradling the back of Aziraphale’s head, his fingers twining into his golden curls, he tilted his head to the side, and he leaned closer to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale felt goosebumps where Anthony’s fingers twirled through his curls, his heart was racing, the butterflies in his stomach threatening to make him take flight.

Together they leaned closer to each other, until they were a hairsbreadth apart, their gentle warm breaths puffing in the air between them. Anthony’s tongue flickered over his lips subconsciously, Aziraphale’s eyes watched the pink tongue slick over his lips and he ached, he wanted to feel Anthony’s lips on his, wanted to feel his breath combine with his and become one.

Anthony wanted to break the distance between them, wanted to press his lips against Aziraphale’s, wanted to taste him on his tongue. But he felt more than just the small distance between them. It was filled with a heaviness that was pulling him under.

“A-Aziraphale,” He started barely above a whisper, not sure what he was going to say, whether he was going to ask permission for a kiss or admit everything that he was keeping from him so it wouldn’t taint their first kiss.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale asked at the same time, his name a question on his tongue.

They breathed a quiet laugh at their stumbling over each other’s names, and Anthony looked into Aziraphale’s eyes, and he dove, dove into the pools of blue that would take him under, instead of succumbing to his secrets.

Anthony broke the last millimeter between them, and he tentatively, gently, carefully pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s, ready to pull back if he was not doing something desirable.

The moment Anthony’s lips brushed against his lips Aziraphale melted against him, melding his lips against Anthony’s, his torso leaning into him the moment his spine liquified. Aziraphale felt every inch of his body pressing against Anthony buzzing and humming as if he were a string of a cello playing a complex pizzicato passage in a song. His hand slipped and his fingers curled around the back of Anthony’s neck, beckoning him to come closer, to entwine with him as much as he was willing. His heart was bursting and thrumming, racing at a level of allegro vivace his heart had never mimicked before. Crescendoing more and more until he had to take a breath and, the little oxygenation bringing him down in a trembling diminuendo, only to return to a swelling of emotion.

Aziraphale smiled against Anthony’s lips and Anthony nearly collapsed off of the bench. He could feel Aziraphale’s plump fingers curling at the nape of his neck and he went weak. He barely kept himself upright at the gentle tickling sensation. Anthony molded himself against Aziraphale’s lenient chest as he felt him lean into him, his delicate chest and pointed shoulder gently pressing against Aziraphale’s soft chest. He felt one of his hands gently trailing from the side of Aziraphale’s face tracing his plush neck, tracing downward along his plush arm, stopping at the width of his forgiving cushioned belly.

Aziraphale felt Anthony’s hand travel downward, painting his side with brushstrokes of gentle adoration. His fingertips dancing gingerly downward like an aerial dancer amongst delicate silks. As the lithe fingers of his slender hand went further down, Aziraphale felt himself stiffen as Anthony’s hand stopped at the widest part of him along the side of his expansive fat stomach. He felt his brow furrowing and the abdominal muscles he had under his girth going rigid in an attempt to make himself appear and feel smaller.

Anthony felt Aziraphale’s form going firm under his touch, his fingers curled tentatively, hesitantly. He gently fluttered his fingers at the gentle spot along the side of Aziraphale’s belly, asking permission to continue his topical exploration.

Aziraphale felt Anthony’s fingers hesitating, fluttering, waiting, waiting for his approval before he continued to touch him where he was most vulnerable. Aziraphale inhaled sharply through his nose and hummed an affirmation against Anthony’s lips. Through all of these delicate movements they never broke the seal of the kiss in the process.

With the hum of approval from Aziraphale, Anthony gently let his fingers calm at the top the uppermost arch of Aziraphale’s side, and traced the gentle swoops along the sides of his belly that he felt through his velvet waistcoat. He applied gentle pressure to the sweet descensions, and arches of his soft delicate belly and it made him ache. Every touch he was allowed upon the angelic baker with him made his heart ache with fondness and bliss.

As Anthony’s fingers traced over his belly Aziraphale let one of his hands travel from the nape of Anthony’s neck and traced his spine to his lower back, and he gently pulled him closer, feeling his slender form pressing closer against his wide form. Melding them together inch by inch.

Time felt like it had stopped, starlight shining beneath their eyes, the hum of the air around them blanketing them with warmth.

Aziraphale felt Anthony humming beneath his lips, and he tentatively pulled away.

“Dearest?” He murmured gently, questioning. His surroundings blinking back into place as he fluttered his eyes. Anthony’s face dancing in front of him, the moonlight making him shimmer. His arms sliding up his back and resting at his pointed shoulders.

“S-sorry angel, I didn’t realize I was actually making a noise. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” Anthony crooned into Aziraphale’s curls as he rested his cheek atop his head, his arms wrapping around Aziraphale’s wide form.

Aziraphale giggled under Anthony’s touch making them both jostle gently, “You didn’t disturb me dear, not at all.” Aziraphale whispered wistfully, his voice twinkling in the space between them, nestling his face in Anthony’s chest, his hands curling under his plush double chin. He felt Anthony’s arms constrict around him tightly, as if he was anchoring himself to him.

They sat like that, curled into each other, holding each other tightly, the gentle breeze and lapping of the pond the only noises in the air.

Anthony began to sway gently from side to side, almost an incomprehensible movement. He felt a hum at his chest and his ears perked, hearing Aziraphale murmuring into his chest.

Aziraphale smiled into Anthony’s chest and began to recite a poem by Paublo Neruda that he had always loved, always longed to share with someone he felt deeply for.

“I love the piece of earth you are, because in all the planetary prairies I do not have another star. You repeat the multiplication of the universe. Your wide eyes are the light I have of the vanquished constellations, your skin pulses like the roads the meteor follows in the rain. Of so much moon were your hips to me, of all the sun your deep mouth and its delight, of so much burning light like honey in the shade your heart burnt by long red rays, and this is how I follow your fire-kissing you, small and planetary, dove and geography.”

Anthony grasped to hear every word that Aziraphale uttered, and he felt his insides melting when the poetry filled his ears. He felt his eyes welling with tears and he sniffed, not wanting to start blubbering all over Aziraphale and staining his curls with tears. His heart ached with so much love that he wanted to proclaim it to every leaf on the trees, to every star in the sky, to every bloody guppy in the duck pond. He felt the love bubbling in his chest and threatening to spill out of him, but the dark swirls of his secrets grabbing the bubbles and encasing them with dirty ashy smog that threatened to choke him.

“Dearest,” he heard Aziraphale murmur into his chest.

“W-what is it angel?” Anthony asked, his chin dipping downward to look at the baker’s sweet face, worried he felt the secrets rising like bile in his throat.

Aziraphale tipped his gaze up to look at Anthony in his beautiful face, “This is, I, this is the best evening of my existence, any time I’ve had with you is so lovely, but tonight, tonight is topping them all. And I didn’t want the evening to pass without telling you that.” He murmured gently up to Anthony, watching his golden eyes in the moonlight.

Anthony took in a deep breath, there was no way he could tell Aziraphale right now about his secret, but he would, he would tell him, tomorrow. After the dinner, he would tell him and explain everything. But right now… He looked down at Aziraphale and nuzzled his face into his golden curls, letting them tickle his face and letting Aziraphale’s giggles rack through him like a deep bass tempo.

Anthony smiled and unwound one arm from around Aziraphale and brought it to his sweet plush chin and tilted his face upwards and leaned to kiss him again.

Aziraphale felt himself swooning at the touch of Anthony’s lips against his, he felt himself melting against him again, but with Anthony’s arm to prop him up, holding him tightly against him.

After a handful of blissful moments Anthony parted his lips from Aziraphale’s and wrapped his arm around him again, resting the side of his face in the soft curls.

“This is the best time I’ve ever had too, with you, I mean, all the other times were wonderful too, but this, tonight, I feel like King Midas, with gold at the touch of my hands, precious gold, precious treasures.” Anthony said running a hand through Aziraphale’s curls.

Aziraphale hummed happily, a smile on his face, as they sat entwined together, until the coolness of the evening began to creep in their bones.

“Dearest, you’re shivering.” Aziraphale said pulling away slightly to look at Anthony’s face.

“Yeah, well, I’m okay. No worries, unless you’re cold, you’re shivering a little too angel.” Anthony rebutted, giving Aziraphale a crooked smile.

“Well I don’t want you to freeze, maybe now would be a good time to head back?” Aziraphale suggested timidly, not wanting to bring the evening to a halt and not wanting to upset Anthony.

“That sounds like a plan to me, unless you want to be snogging a snowman soon. The cold gets to me quick, like I was cold blooded or something.” Anthony laughed as he untangled his limbs from around Aziraphale.

“Oh, far from it darling.” Aziraphale said twisting himself rightly and patting his hands on his thighs.

Anthony laughed and rose from the bench hopping a little to warm himself as he gathered himself on his feet. He extended a hand to Aziraphale and carefully helped him stand up from the bench.

“Thank you dear.” Aziraphale said sweetly.

Anthony smiled, his golden eyes shimmering, “Let’s get to the Bentley and get you home so you can get warm.” He said gently snaking an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

Aziraphale grinned and he fell into step with Anthony as they headed back toward the car, the gravel of the footpath crunching beneath their feet.

The cold air was settling thicker in the air and they were both properly shivering by the time they got to the Bentley, Anthony unlocked and opened Aziraphale’s door for him, letting him gently fold himself into the seat. Then quickly sprinting around the car so he could get in and start the heat.

Immediately upon getting the car started and warmed up, once he had shifted into drive Anthony reached a hand to grasp Aziraphale’s gently as he drove him home.

They rode in a comfortable, happily buzzing silence until they reached the bakery.

Anthony quickly nearly toppling out of the car to hurry around to the passenger side to open the door for Aziraphale and help him out.

Aziraphale giggled, “thank you dearest.” He said, “You know, I am capable of getting in and out of cars myself.” He said teasingly as Anthony walked him to the door of the bakery.

Anthony shrugged and smiled sheepishly, “I know, but I want to be a gentleman, make you feel good. Want to be sure I’m treating you like the treasure you are.” Anthony admitted, giving Aziraphale’s plump hand a squeeze.

Aziraphale smiled broadly at Anthony, as they reached the door of the bakery. Aziraphale frowned and pulled his keys out of his pocket.

“Why the frown angel?” Anthony asked, his voice thick with worry.

“I, it’s rather selfish of me, but I didn’t want to let go of your hand.” Aziraphale admitted turning to Anthony, chuckling at the admission.

Anthony laughed and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, “S’not selfish, if I could I would let you take my hand with you inside.” He said gently into the baker’s curls.

Aziraphale laughed and pulled back to look up at Anthony, his eyes searching his face, his lips pulling into a smile.

“You’re eyes angel, I swear, your eyes are like sapphires shining in this starlight, I would never look at anything else if I could help it, except for the rest of you, you’re like a bloody gift I don’t deserve.” Anthony said gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes his gaze full of longing.

Aziraphale blushed and looked up at Anthony, he stood on his tiptoes and placed a kiss at the corner of his lips.

“You’re too kind dearest, if only we could separate our eyes and hands, but take this kiss as a parting until tomorrow? I don’t want you to catch a cold out here in the chilly night.” Aziraphale murmured, his mouth resting against the corner of Anthony’s lips.

Anthony smiled and gave Aziraphale a parting kiss, gently threading his fingers through the golden curls at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck.

They pulled apart as shivers wracked through them, Aziraphale gave Anthony’s hand a squeeze, “Would you let me know when you make it home safely?” He asked gently.

“Anything angel, anything you’d want.” Anthony said squeezing his hand back.

They regretfully let their hands part, and Anthony placed one last kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead, before he walked backwards to the Bentley so he wouldn’t have to tear his eyes away from Aziraphale.

He climbed into the Bentley without breaking his gaze and shut the door, he watched as Aziraphale unlocked the bakery door and gave him a final little wave before going back inside.

Anthony buckled his seatbelt and started to head towards his flat, joy and guilt fighting equally in his chest and mind over the evening.

Aziraphale carefully climbed the stairs holding his vase of marigolds, in his hands delicately. He placed them delicately on his bedside table and then changed into his pajamas, preparing to go to bed. He smiled when he heard his mobile chime and he answered it.

‘Made it home safe and sound angel, I’ll see you tomorrow for the dinner yeah?’ Anthony had messaged with a smiley face at the end.

Aziraphale’s heart leapt, he had nearly forgotten about Sunday dinner with his family and that he was bringing Anthony. He felt touched that he remembered, he felt touched about the whole evening.

Once Anthony had sent the message to Aziraphale he ripped his clothes off and washed the gunk out of his hair. He heard his cell go off while he was in the shower and he quickly washed off and dried off to answer it.

‘Yes dearest, I will count the moments until I can see your beautiful face.’ With a heart emoji at the end.

Anthony stifled a strangled cry and ran a hand down his face. He tapped a message to Aziraphale and waited for him to respond, if he was going to.

Aziraphale smiled and read Anthony’s newest text message again and again, ‘I ne’er saw true beauty til this night.’ A string of heart emojis followed. The passage from Romeo and Juliet flitted through Aziraphale’s mind, mentions of love made his heart flutter.

Anthony sighed deeply, and smiled gently when he saw Aziraphale send him back a happy face emoji and a heart emoji in every color.

‘Goodnight dearest, I hope you get warm and have lovely dreams about whatever you like best.’

Anthony grinned, as a warm wet tear slid down his face, and he tapped out one last message to Aziraphale before plopping into his bed and wrapping the blankets around him before letting his guilt eat him alive as he drifted off into sleep.

Aziraphale beamed as he read the last message from Anthony and tucking himself into bed.

‘I’ll be dreaming of you all night angel, sweetest dreams angel, can’t wait to see you tomorrow.’

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he drifted off to sleep, excited for the first time for family dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the Eden's weekly family dinner and tonight Aziraphale is bringing his boyfriend Anthony. Of course the Eden's dont have a game night they just have family drama to participate in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baked goods.  
> Butt admiring.   
> Label making.  
> Draaaamaaaaaa.  
> There are some references/outright homophobia and fatphobia. It's not super super bad but proceed with caution dears.

Chapter 23

Aziraphale awoke that Sunday excited to see Anthony and introduce him to his family. Though, thinking of his family’s reaction to the last man he brought home a sense of worry began to knot in his stomach.

He mulled over the possible outcomes of the evening and he made himself a cup of tea and grabbed a book to read to try and calm his racing nerves. As he settled on his plush couch, he did his best to lose himself in the pages of the book he was reading called The Tale of Hou Yi and Chang’e, the Sun Vanquisher and Moon Goddess. He easily lost himself in the book, startling when his mobile chimed indicating a phone call.

He hastily grabbed the mobile and seeing that it was his uncle, put on a bright tone before answering, “Good morning uncle!” He greeted cheerfully, laying it on a bit thick.

“Morning nephew, you hadn’t responded to my text messages, so I just wanted to call and remind you about dinner tonight. Of course, dinner not being something you would forget.” He added with a chuckle.

Aziraphale felt his smile tighten, and he took in a slow breath and exhaled before letting it out again, “Of course, and I do recall letting you know that I would be bringing a guest this week, Anthony the man…”

“Ah yes the man who has been keeping you from doing anything too strenuous at the bakery.” His uncle chuckled through the phone.

Aziraphale made a noise of confirmation, not wanting to get into things with his uncle this early in the morning.

“Now, I also thought it would be appropriate for you to bring a couple of baked goods, that way we can decide what you’re going to bake for the competition coming up. We all talked about it and thought that maybe the apple pie is too overdone.” Gabriel said offhandedly, sounding bored.

“How many should I bring? I was still planning on making the apple pie, since it’s a family tradition, family recipe, and from the family orchard. The judges always had positive views on that, you know that family is a big hit with them. Especially since Mr. Shadwell and Grandfather were friends.” Aziraphale countered, surprised at his uncle’s words.

“Yeah well, seems to be the new trend is less traditional and familial, and more original tastes, strange combinations that work well together, and how nicely and pretty the presentation of the dessert is.” His uncle rattled off, annoyance and distraction chiming in his tones.

“Well, I can always perk up the apple pie, give it a crust other than a lattice, add in a new ingredient possibly, make some designs on the crusts. Oh, maybe torch designs into the crusts, like you would a crème brûlée.” Excitement began rising in Aziraphale’s voice.

“Right, well just whip up something new, we can all taste it and judge it at the dinner and see if it would be suitable for the contest. Something you haven’t made before, or something that you haven’t put in the contest before.” Gabriel said distractedly talking to someone else on his line of the conversation.

“I’ll be sure to make something, maybe I could go through Grandfather’s old recipe books and see what I could find there that I haven’t made before.” Aziraphale said excitedly.

“Yeah sure, see you at dinner then.” His uncle said hanging up the phone before Aziraphale could say goodbye.

Aziraphale sighed and looked at his mobile, he jumped when it began to ring again, and he smiled when he saw Anthony’s number flashing across the small screen.

“Good morning.” He answered brightly, smiling dreamily as he greeted Anthony.

The deep chuckle from the other end brought thrills down his spine, “Morning angel.” Anthony murmured, sounding like he had just woken up, his voice thick and sweet.

“How did you sleep dearest?” Aziraphale asked him as one of his hands fluttered up to his hair and began twirling around one of his curls.

He was answered by a deep yawn followed by, “Slept alright, just woke up, missed your voice. How about you angel?” He murmured into the phone.

Aziraphale felt a warmth in his chest, “I missed your voice as well, though I didn’t want to disturb your sleep I know you have such troubles sleeping soundly.” Aziraphale replied feeling badly for not calling Anthony as soon as he was conscious this morning.

“Don’t worry about it angel, but I just wanted to hear your voice this morning. Also,” Aziraphale heard Anthony shifting around and imagined him rolling over in his bed propping himself up on his elbows.

“I wanted to ask you, ah, what should I, what should I wear to meet your family tonight? I don’t want to, I don’t want to wear anything or do anything that would make them give you a hard time or embarrass you.” He mumbled embarrassment coloring his tone.

Aziraphale wanted to reach through the phone and hug him tightly.

“Nothing you do could embarrass me; let alone anything you wear.” He said gently in the receiver of the phone.

“I’m sure that I could pull together an outfit of sorts that would embarrass you to bits.” Anthony giggled, “But I don’t want to do that to you tonight, not with your family. By the way, are all of them assholes or just your uncle?” Anthony asked his voice strained, Aziraphale imagined him stretching his arms over his head.

“Uncles. They’re both, dreadful. My aunts aren’t as bad, they married into the family you see. Though my Aunt Uriel didn’t like having to take over my cares when my grandfather died. She never wanted children so it, I was a huge imposition, even though I was an older child.” Aziraphale babbled, feeling a sense of wanting to defend his family, without being dishonest.

Anthony snorted, “So you’re the only good one of the lot is that what I’m hearing?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t quite say that.” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Hmm, well my question still stands as to what would be appropriate to meet your boyfriends asshole family for the first time.” Anthony said laughing, then he fell silent for a moment.

Shit shit shit shit shit! He chastised himself clenching his eyes closed, he hadn’t meant to call himself Aziraphale’s boyfriend out loud, he hadn’t made it official and he didn’t want to assume anything.

“I, er,” Anthony faltered, “What I mean is, I, I don’t want to, assume that you’d want to call me your boyfriend or anything like that, but I also don’t assume you snog other people in that park at night, and it slipped off my tongue, if you don’t want to call me your boyfriend, or don’t want the title, or just want to snog me in the park at night that’s all okay too. I’m sorry.” Anthony sputtered out clumsily trying to take back the premature words.

Aziraphale could hardly contain himself on the other end of the line, Anthony had called him his boyfriend, he had never had an official boyfriend before. Heavens before last night he had never had a proper kiss before, he couldn’t stop smiling, Anthony’s tittering on the other end of the line falling upon deaf ears.

“Anthony, I would be honored to consider you my boyfriend, and I would be honored if you considered me your boyfriend as well. Though the same does apply to you as you said, I don’t want to assume that you’d want to call me your boyfriend, though I can picture you snogging many people in the park at night. If you would have me, I would be honored.” Aziraphale said softly, gently, carefully.

Silence from Anthony’s end, “Alright boyfriend, what do you think I should wear tonight?” He asked mischievousness coloring his words.

“Whatever you feel most comfortable in boyfriend.” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

“So, pajamas then?” Anthony asked teasingly.

Aziraphale laughed, his hand that had been absentmindedly threading through his curls this entire time.

“If you would like, you could send me pictures of the outfits you were deciding between, or er I could come help you pick something in person, not to invite myself over in the slightest dear.” Aziraphale said hastily.

“Hmm, if I don’t think of something, I would love your help. Though I’m sure you have more to do today than just dress me.” Anthony muttered.

Aziraphale sighed, “I do have to make some desserts to take with us, my uncle said that he wanted to review what I planned on entering in the baking competition.”

Anthony felt a wave a nausea go through him, “Oh, w-what do you plan on making?” he asked, trying to keep his reaction under control, his emotions.

“For the dinner, I’m not sure, I plan on rifling through my grandfather’s old recipe books, my uncle said he wanted me to bring something that I haven’t made before. Guess everyone is sick of my old-fashioned predictable ways.” He said with a chuckle.

“Not everyone.” Anthony murmured.

They sat in silence for a moment, a beat, two, “Do you want some help baking today? Give you some company.” Anthony asked, his voice soft.

“That would be lovely if you’d like to.” Aziraphale nodded, though Anthony couldn’t see him over the phone, but though he couldn’t see the smile on Anthony’s face, he could hear it through his voice, “Give me about thirty minutes to become presentable and I’ll be there.”

“Sounds like a date.” Aziraphale teased.

They hung up at the same time, Aziraphale smiled and returned to his lukewarm tea and his book, wanting to finish this chapter before getting dressed and going down to the bakery.

Anthony sat in a trance for a moment after hanging up the phone and tried to repress the churning in his stomach. He would tell Aziraphale tonight, he had to. Maybe he could tell him before the dinner, while they were at the bakery together.

Anthony felt the churning stop after the thoughts of admission flitted through his head and he went to the shower. As he scrubbed his face and hair, he rehearsed different ways to tell Aziraphale about the secret he’d been harboring for too long now.

Aziraphale changed into a comfortable tan sweater and brown pants and headed downstairs. As he turned on the lights and turned on the oven, he heard the tapping on the door.

He smiled and opened the back door, “Hello dearest,” he said letting Anthony in the doorway, he was wearing a lovely black long sleeved button up shirt with shiny red threads throughout making a shimmering light when he moved, a black leather jacket over that, black and red boots and dark leather pants.

“Hi angel.” Anthony greeted coming through the doorway, “May I?” He asked glancing at Aziraphale’s lips.

Aziraphale blushed, “Of course, you don’t need to ask, now that we’re boyfriends. Wouldn’t have had to ask before that either.” He replied nervously.

Anthony snorted a laugh, “I wouldn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. Just wanted to check.”

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s lips which smiled beneath his touch. Anthony lazily let a hand work its way to the back of Aziraphale’s head and let his fingers thread through the golden curls there.

“Missed you.” He murmured into Aziraphale’s neck as he wrapped him in a hug.

“I missed you too darling, and might I say you look rather dashing.” Aziraphale murmured back wrapping his arms around Anthony’s lithe frame.

They stood there holding each other for a moment, then broke away together, “Thank you, you’re sweet. So what is it that we’ll be baking for tonight?” Anthony asked clapping his hands together.

Aziraphale giggled, “Well I’m not too certain, I haven’t had a chance to look at my grandfather’s old recipes yet. But I also wanted to bake an apple pie, show them that there’s nothing wrong with traditional and humble goods.” He said smartly.

“Well what do you need me to do? I am at your disposal.” Anthony said arms outstretched.

“Well if you’d like you can start peeling and slicing apples, I’m going to thumb through my grandfather’s recipe book and see if there’s anything in there that sounds good to bake.”

Anthony gave Aziraphale a salute and then went to the pantry and pulled out several apples and began to peel and slice them.

He watched Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye go to his office in the back and pick a book out of the desk drawer and carry it gingerly back to the kitchen.

“It’s old, passed down in the family and added on by each generation.” Aziraphale explained as he carefully brought the book out to the island where Anthony was standing.

“It has many recipes in it, my grandfather’s grandfather, and possibly even his grandfather, I can’t think of how far back generation wise it goes. But the first Eden, the first one to live here, Goderyc Eden, he started the family orchard with a single apple tree, and he started this book. Every generation since has helped the orchard, and the book grow.” Aziraphale told Anthony this gently, placing the book on the countertop and carefully caressing the book cover with his fingertips. He gingerly began turning the pages and searching for something to bake.

The book was thick, at least six hundred pages if not more. The cover was a dark heather green, time making it darker than it probably started as. Gold designs swirled on the cover and the sides. Corners were worn almost threadbare, the pages old and yellowing. Some with small water stains on them, many of them with handwritten notes in the margins. Adding and subtracting ingredients, cross references to other recipes in the book. Aziraphale smiled fondly, thinking of when he was younger how he would help his grandfather turn the pages carefully.

“Have you added a recipe yet?” Anthony asked, his voice thick.

Aziraphale’s gaze flitted up from the book to Anthony’s face, though his eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, the lines at the side of his mouth and at the corners of his eyes were pulled in a sad expression. His mouth held a smile but the etches in his skin were telling a different story.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, “Is something wrong dear?” He asked reaching one hand and placing it at Anthony’s wrist.

Anthony jerked slightly, as if the touch burned, “S-sorry angel, got lost in my own head for a moment. I’m okay.” Anthony said hastily, turning his attention back to the apples, “So have you? Added a recipe yet?” Anthony asked, a smile pasted on his lips.

“Not yet, I haven’t perfected what I want to put in here yet. It has to be perfect, because unless I adopt there won’t be a new generation to pass this onto.” Aziraphale’s voice took on a sad tone.

“You never know.” Anthony said raising an eyebrow at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and gave Anthony a little shove.

Anthony grinned and went back to focusing on the apple peeling and slicing.

“So, I’ve heard a bit about the apple tree your great something grandfather had, didn’t it start quite a tiff? Silly question mean it must have if I know about it. I heard about it like at primary school whenever they talk about the local agriculture and farms. I ‘member my teacher getting onto me because I wasn’t paying attention during the field trip when we passed the farm on the bus.” Anthony said, his words tripping and his pitch high.

Aziraphale nodded, “Yes it did, and yes sadly it’s part of the reputation of my family, legacy and whatnot. How the story was told to me was that my long-time great grandfather had planted and cared for an apple tree with a close friend name Lucian DeVille. When the tree was able to sprout fruit they would sell the apples. Bake them into breads and cakes and such, they wanted to move out of London, move elsewhere.”

Anthony almost popped off and said, “to Dublin,” but there was no way he would no that so he stayed silent.

“But one year, one day after Lucian had gone to the market to sell the pies and other baked goods they had made, Goderyc at the shack where they stayed when they tended to the tree and made the baked goods. He waited and waited, and Lucian never returned. He waited a long time, days, weeks, for his friend to return, and he never did. Goderyc had searched the village, searched the market, couldn’t find a trace of Lucian, or the money they had earned from the market that day. Others in the village had told him that they had seen Lucian running out of town with the money from the village. He finally had to make a decision to either stay with the painful memories of his friend leaving him, betraying him, or move on. He ended up meeting a woman at the market and marrying her, and she would become his new business partner as well. She helped make the breads and pies while Goderyc tended to the growing orchard and together they grew the foundation of their orchard and their family.”

Aziraphale told the story almost effortlessly, as if he had, as Anthony had, heard it many times over the years, over how his family was the party betrayed and they had no fault in the feud.

“I take it, that Lucian came back since there’s a feud then.” Anthony added after Aziraphale had fallen silent a moment.

“Oh yes, he came back later, after Goderyc had gotten together with Lucinda and made a ruckus. He had cornered Goderyc at the orchard accusing him of betrayal, of knowingly leaving him hurt in the woods to freeze so he could have the money and apple business to himself. Goderyc of course was beside himself, his dearest friend had accused him of such a thing. And that’s how the feud came about.” Aziraphale said with a wave of his hand.

“Jeez.” Anthony muttered, the Eden side of the story making somewhat sense compared to what he had always heard growing up. Of course, it took two people to have a feud, and if the one between their families, their businesses had all been a misunderstanding maybe telling Aziraphale his secret would be easier,

“Oh yes, it has become such a mess, the DeVille’s own my biggest competition baked goods wise, the shop across town called Lucy’s Café. They have all their kin working there, the father is in charge of the business, he is a very, intimidating presence around the city. I’ve heard many things, seen many people fear him, he has offered to buy A Slice of Heaven multiple times over the years and I refuse each time, kindly mind you, and whenever I decline something happens, a window is broken or some of the farm is vandalized, my truck tires slashed. Most likely he has his children doing his biddings around to rough up people who refuse his requests, or orders. He has many connections around town, friends in law enforcement, different high-profile people in the city, it’s rather all a mess.” Aziraphale explained offhandedly as he continued to thumb through the book.

Anthony felt a shudder go down his spine, and he tried to keep himself under control.

“Ah, here’s something!” Aziraphale exclaimed peering closely at a recipe in the book, making Anthony jump halfway out of his skin.

“Chocolate, ginger, and cherry tiffin, oh that sounds scrumptious, what do you think dear?” Aziraphale asked Anthony turning bright eyes his way.

Anthony smiled, “It does sound pretty great, but you don’t need apples for that.” He said pointedly glancing at the bowl of peeled and sliced apples he had been working on.

“Ah no, the apples are for a pie.” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

“Makes sense.” Anthony said with a smirk.

Aziraphale marked the page of the tiffin recipe and continued flipping through the book, “I’m not sure how many desserts would be appropriate to make, I don’t want to overwhelm them with different options, but I also would like them to realize that the pie would be the best option for the contest.” Aziraphale murmured looking for more recipes that seemed to befit his uncles expectations.

“Contest?” Anthony gulped, turning every ounce of attention to slicing the apples so he wouldn’t accidently slit his thumb off.

“Yes, each year there is a baking contest in London, we, well I suppose I, enter every year. I usually enter the same thing each year, a pie that has a secret combination of spices that make it very distinguishable. Other bakeries and cafes in town enter, the winner gets quite a large sum as a prize, as well as notoriety in the city. It’s good for the business, but it heightens the rivalries in town unfortunately.” Aziraphale tutted turning the page again.

“Oh, here’s another one, caramel hazelnut brownies!” Aziraphale exclaimed excitedly.

“Those all sound pretty tasty.” Anthony admitted.

“Well then we’ll have to make all three then.” Aziraphale said decidedly.

Aziraphale went through the pantry and the cooler and grabbed the ingredients that they would need to make the pie, brownies, and tiffin.

“Do you, do you want me to make one while you make the other? Then we can divvy up the third thing?” Anthony asked lamely. The conversation about the contest and the ancient feud settling like lead in his stomach.

“That sounds lovely dear, which would you like to make?” Aziraphale asked.

“I like brownies, I could make those.” Anthony said with a shrug.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll make the pie, and then we can work on the tiffin together.” Aziraphale said, a blush spreading across his face.

Anthony’s mouth ticked upward, and he finished slicing and peeling the apples that he had, then traded the bowl of sliced and peeled apples with Aziraphale for the recipe for the brownies.

Once the time had passed for the pie and brownies to be popped in the oven to bake Anthony had relaxed a bit, and Aziraphale had started fretting.

“All we have left is the tiffin and we barely have enough time to make those and we’ll be late, and my family hates it when I’m late. I can practically hear their lectures now” He said his voice tense and his hands fluttering at his midsection.

“We have plenty of time angel, besides there are four hands making them instead of just two, so it won’t take as long. How about you start melting the butter, milk chocolate and golden syrup. And I’ll start blitzing the biscuits into crumbs in the food processor.” Anthony said a hand resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder to try and help him calm down a smidge.

“That sounds good, okay I can do that.” Aziraphale nodded.

Aziraphale started on melting the butter and chocolate while Anthony simultaneously blitzed the biscuits and sliced the cherries into halves.

Once they were both done with their tasks Anthony tipped the biscuits and cherry halves into a mixing bowl and Aziraphale poured in the melted ingredients. Anthony mixed them together and then while Aziraphale held the tin Anthony spooned the mixture in, keeping the mixture level.

Aziraphale brought two saucepans of water to a boil on the stovetop and then put the remaining milk chocolate in one bowl and white chocolate in the second. Once the chocolates were melted Anthony spread the milk chocolate over the surface of the tiffin and Aziraphale drizzled the white chocolate onto it, using a toothpick to mix the chocolates in a marble effect.

Anthony evenly spaced out a dozen cherries on top of the tiffin so that when it was cut the cherries would be in the middle of the slice of tiffin. Once everything was set Aziraphale placed the tiffin in the blast chiller to give it time to set before they had to leave.

“Oh dear, I feel a tad under dressed, do you think I should change?” Aziraphale asked tugging at the hem of his sweater, looking up at Anthony wide eyed.

Anthony frowned at the worry Aziraphale was going through all over dinner with his family. Though he would be feeling the same way, it was different when Aziraphale was the one under stress and scrutiny.

“I think you look lovely.” Anthony said wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s wide waist.

“You’re biased.” Aziraphale countered with a chuckle.

“Maybe so, but you asked what I think. I think if you feel like changing you should change, but also if you feel comfortable with what you have on, then wear that.” Anthony mused in Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully, looking down at his sweater, Anthony followed his gaze and felt shivers going down his spine. The soft fabric hugged Aziraphale gently, emphasizing the gentle swoops and dips of his sides, the outline of his broad belly and soft chest visible with the mild and tender cling of the sweater.

“It is a nicer sweater; not like I’ll just be wearing a sweatshirt.” Aziraphale mused to himself.

Anthony nodded, still absorbed in the soft clinging wool fabric that draped over his torso. Wanting nothing more than to place his hands along his soft skin.

“I’ll go with the sweater, hopefully my family will like it as much as you seem to.” Aziraphale said teasingly giving Anthony a slight bump with his plush hip.

Anthony blushed and wrapped an arm lazily around Aziraphale’s plush hip when he tried to bump him again.

“You’re cute.” Anthony murmured into Aziraphale’s hair, placing a kiss amongst the curls.

Aziraphale giggled, feeling a warmth in his belly that rose to his chest.

“We had better be going dear, would you mind helping me carry these out?” Aziraphale asked as he pulled away from Anthony and packed the baked goods up in a couple of the pink bakery boxes that he had in the shop.

“Of course.” Anthony said grabbing two of the boxes as Aziraphale grabbed the other one and his keys.

They made their way to the door and Anthony balanced all the desserts as Aziraphale locked the door.

Anthony balanced all the boxes as he opened Aziraphale’s door for him, then he carefully packed the boxes in the back seat of the Bentley and swiftly walked to the driver’s side door.

Aziraphale gave him the address and he typed it into his GPS and began to drive toward the dinner. His nerves were bouncing around like angry kangaroos, but with a side glance at Aziraphale, who seemed to be fretting even more than usual, calmed him. There couldn’t be two of them losing their heads over nerves.

Anthony reached a hand across the seat and placed it gently on Aziraphale’s knee, the quiet bouncing ceasing under his touch.

“You don’t have to stop bouncing your knee angel, I just wanted to reassure you that I was here.” Anthony said gently, rubbing the side of Aziraphale’s knee with his thumb.

He heard Aziraphale sigh gently, and he continued to drive toward the Eden Estate.

“We’re not too far off, just around the bend now.” Aziraphale said pointing at the mailbox. Anthony turned at the mailbox and drove up the long drive, his nerves starting to settle in again. The large white and gray detached house had lights on in every window, making it look bright and welcoming.

Aziraphale felt his stomach knot and unknot at the view of the lit house. He remembered that the entirety of the house did not exude warmth as much as the lights seemed to make it seem as such. It was all for appearances, his uncles always wanted to put on a show.

Anthony pulled the Bentley to the end of the drive and parked at the end of the row of other vehicles. He turned off the car and they sat in silence for a moment, and then he turned to Aziraphale.

His hands were fidgeting, tugging at the hem of his sweater, puling it away from his belly. He tugged at the neck, stretching it away from himself. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale jumped and turned to Anthony, he had forgotten, momentarily, that he was with him in the Bentley. He was looking at him, his face full of concern, his beautiful golden eyes peering over the top of his sunglasses, his lower lip threading between his teeth with worry.

“Sorry dear, I lost myself there for a moment.” Aziraphale said reassuringly.

“You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Anthony said gently.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, as if the thought had never occurred to him to not attend family dinner, to not spend time with his family. It was expected of him, he had to go.

“I should go, they’re expecting me, it’s expected of me to attend.” Aziraphale murmured.

“Just because something is expected of you, doesn’t mean you have to go through with it. It’s your life, you don’t have to do anything that makes you unhappy.” Anthony said, sadness briefly flashing in his eyes.

“I wish it were that simple.” Aziraphale muttered, then painted a smile on his face, “Let’s head on in dear, don’t want to keep them waiting.” He said in a faux cheery voice.

Anthony’s mouth tilted up in a half smile, concern in his eyes, but he followed Aziraphale’s cue and unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and quickly went around to Aziraphale’s side and opened the door for him, extending a hand to help him out.

Aziraphale smiled, a broad genuine smile, “Thank you my dear.” He said, giving Anthony’s hand a squeeze before letting it drop as he turned to get the boxes from the backseat.

Anthony tried not to look as Aziraphale bent over to get the boxes, tried to at least act like a gentleman, and gentlemen don’t look at their other people’s behinds. But what about their boyfriend’s behinds? They do that or do they? He chuckled to himself as Aziraphale stood upright with the boxes in hand, hearing Anthony’s chuckle he raised an eyebrow.

Anthony smiled at him innocently, and Aziraphale wanted to tug at his sweater, to make sure he hadn’t any lint on his trousers, and his hands itched to adjust them.

Seeing a flash of insecurity pass over Aziraphale’s face Anthony reached his hands out to take the boxes and said, “Was just arguing with myself over whether it would be gentlemanly to look at your behind as you were bent over.” Anthony admitted, twin shades of scarlet staining his cheeks.

Taken off guard Aziraphale barked a laugh before he could cover his mouth to stifle it.

“That was not what I was expecting you to say.” He admitted to Anthony as they walked to the front door, a blush still painted on Anthony’s face and a mischievous smile on Aziraphale’s.

“Well, didn’t want you thinking I was laughing at you about anything. Just me contemplating proper relationship conduct.” Anthony explained as they walked up the few steps of the porch and pressed the doorbell.

“Always a gentleman, but you can be a bit of a scoundrel, if you so wish, I wouldn’t mind.” Aziraphale said a blush darkening his cheeks.

“Well I’ll remember that,” Anthony said winking over the rims of his glasses, then added, “but you could also, be a er scoundrel if you’d like.” Anthony mumbled with his blush darkening a shade.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, “Though I can’t picture you being too much of a scoundrel, it’d be too scandalous for you and your proper ways.” He teased Aziraphale as they waited for someone to answer the door.

“Oh really?” Aziraphale asked with a smirk.

“Really.” Anthony said with a small nod, hearing footsteps on the other side of the door and straightened his posture a bit.

Aziraphale, seeing an opportunity, a slight one before one of his aunts or uncles opened the door, and he reached a plump hand to Anthony’s leather clad bottom and gave it a gentle pinch, making Anthony yelp with a jump nearly tossing the boxes of desserts in the air, just as the door handle began to turn.

“Bastard.” Anthony hissed as he blushed madly at Aziraphale, who couldn’t hide his laughter as his uncle Gabriel opened the door.

“Aziraphale welcome! This must be Antoine.” Gabriel said with a wide smile, his eyes curiously appraising the sight of the two together, Anthony blushing and Aziraphale giggling like a schoolboy.

“Actually, it’s Anthony.” Aziraphale corrected raising an eyebrow at his uncle.

“Yes of course, come in come in, we’re all waiting to begin.” Gabriel said leading them inside the house.

Aziraphale stole a look at Anthony while they followed Gabriel into the dining area, smirking smugly.

Anthony mouthed “Bastard” At him, but he was smiling as he did so, the blush finally diminishing from his cheeks.

“Aziraphale is here with his associate.” Gabriel said cheerfully walking toward the head of the table.

A murmur of greeting passed through the rest of the Edens as Aziraphale and Anthony made their way to the empty chairs at the end of the table. Aziraphale headed to the empty chair next to his Aunt Uriel and Anthony followed him. Anthony placed the boxes of baked goods in the empty seat on his left and held the chair out for Aziraphale, who smiled at him and murmured his thanks.

“Shall we say Grace?” Gabriel asked holding his hands up after a moment of everyone glancing at each other back and forth.

Everyone joined hands, Anthony grateful that the table was too wide for him to have to join hands with Aziraphale’s other uncle, and he enjoyed the feeling of Aziraphale’s warm plump hand in his.

“Dear Lord, we thank you for the meal we are about to receive, we thank you for Uriel’s ability to cook, we thank you for the harvest this year which has done our family, our legacy well. We thank you for this life we are living, and we thank you for tomorrow though it is not promised. Amen.” Gabriel recited with his eyes closed.

Everyone dropped hands except for Anthony and Aziraphale who simply dropped their entwined hands off of the table.

Anthony surveyed the group at the table, Aziraphale’s uncle Gabriel, was sitting at the head, his dark hair cut, almost in a military fashion, outlining the squareness of his head His eyes were an interesting shade of blue that in the right light seemed a dark purple. He was wearing a gray suit, fancy looking even from here, and a long light purple tie.

The woman to his left, had lovely dark skin with a spattering of freckles across her face, the set of her mouth was no nonsense and she was stabbing at her salad greens with her fork. She had on a light gray suit with a pink ruffled shirt underneath.

Across from her sat another woman, pale with brown hair in a topknot, she had on a darker gray suit with a thin white cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck, the shirt she wore underneath white with ruffles at the cuffs.

The man sitting next to her had on a mustard brown suit jacket with a white collard shirt underneath and a matching tie that looked as if it were meant to resemble a ribbon. He had a bald head that resembled a hardboiled egg that was slightly undercooked. He was sneering at them across the table, a gold tooth peeking between the set of his lips.

Anthony glanced around and leaned to Aziraphale, “I thought this was a dinner, everyone’s dressed more for a business meeting”

Aziraphale’s mouth twitched trying not to laugh, his uncle Gabriel caught something from their exchange and raised an eyebrow but didn’t announce their faux pas to the group.

“Aunt Uriel this lamb is simply divine, did you soak it in red wine before you broiled it? Or am I tasting a different type of fruity juice?” Aziraphale asked turning to the dark-skinned woman on his right.

“No, I didn’t soak it in wine.” She said simply and did not delve further in the way of her cooking.

Anthony noticed Aziraphale’s face drop slightly, and he gave his hand a squeeze under the table. Aziraphale smiled and returned the squeeze.

“It’s so nice of you to help Aziraphale at the bakery,” the other woman said looking at Anthony, her gaze narrowed.

“He’s been in need of help with the shop, some new blood in there may bring more customers.” She said her voice terse.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything Aziraphale cleared his throat and asked, “Aunt Michaela, did you help Aunt Uriel with the food? It tastes absolutely scrumptious.”

The other woman, Michaela raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale, “Yes, I made the charred radicchio with arugula, cherries, and parmesan, had to look up something to make that didn’t have asparagus in it.” She said wrinkling her nose.

“Oh, it’s very good, charring the radicchio undermines its bitterness, and the cherries and balsamic add sweetness and the arugula and black pepper bring a spice to it. It’s so well balanced.” Aziraphale praised his aunts cooking abilities, making Anthony smile. He really did enjoy how much joy food brought him.

“Not surprised that you know so much about food.” The uncle with the gold tooth sneered.

Anthony’s mouth dropped and his head swiveled to look at Aziraphale, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away from his family and down at his plate, focusing on piercing a good bite of the radicchio. He glanced at Anthony from the corner of his eyes and gave his hand a squeeze, Anthony saw the almost imperceptible head shake that Aziraphale did and he took a deep slow deliberate breath so he wouldn’t dive across the table and strangle Aziraphale’s uncle for being such a cad.

“So, Antonio, how are you liking working at the bakery with Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked his tone sounding friendly, but his eyes didn’t hold the same message.

Anthony swallowed the bite of food he had taken and glanced at Gabriel as he replied, “It’s Anthony. And I quite like it, nice and cozy type of place. And Aziraphale is amazing to work under, leaning loads from him, loads more than I could have anywhere else.” Anthony said praising Aziraphale with a squeeze of his hand, getting a smile from him.

Gabriel looked like he was considering what Anthony said before asking, “How are the sales? Aziraphale and I had a talk about the money vs product coming in reports recently and I haven’t had a chance to look up the most recent numbers.”

Aziraphale felt his spine stiffen at his uncles subtle prodding, knowing that he was likely to bring up the rest of the previous conversation they had as well.

“Sales are good, seems to be the best loved bakery in London, but that may have more to do with Aziraphale than the actual bakery, everyone loves him.” He heard Anthony say. Aziraphale didn’t catch what his uncle said in response, the word love coming from Anthony’s mouth making his head fizzy like a shaken-up soda.

He looked at Anthony, his eyes wide and his mouth pulled into a wide smile, the word, though not spoken directly in unification with Anthony’s feelings towards Aziraphale, it made him feel tingly from his head to his toes.

“So where did you work at before to have prior experience baking?” Uncle Randolph had chimed into the conversation between Anthony and Gabriel, Aziraphale’s attention being brought back to the table talk.

Anthony stuttered, “Er, ah, well my mum taught me some things, but she passed away a long time ago.”

“Must have taught you quite a bit if you are actually working at the bakery now, since you’re on the payroll and all now.” Randolph said, his eyes flickering like he was toying with Anthony somehow.

Anthony’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, forgetting how to operate, and Aziraphale chimed in, “Initially he was just helping out as a somewhat volunteer taste tester for some newer recipes, but when he began doing more around the shop I didn’t think it fair to not pay him for the hard work.” Aziraphale chimed in, giving Anthony’s hand another squeeze.

Randolph nodded, then raised an eyebrow at Anthony, “Seems awfully rude to continue wearing your sunglasses indoors young man. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and having them concealed makes it seem like you’re hiding something.”

Anthony gulped, and his gaze flashed around the table, he had never seen these people before there’s no way to know what he was hiding.

“I have several eye conditions that make brighter lights cause great pain, so I like to avoid that at, not very pleasant that is.” Anthony sputtered.

Aziraphale’s uncle blinked slowly, deliberately, and then glanced at Gabriel who gave a small shrug.

They continued to eat in silence, until their plates were all cleared of food. Anthony fought the urge to offer Aziraphale the food he didn’t want because he had a feeling his family would say something rude to him.

“Well, that was a delicious dinner, I believe Aziraphale brought dessert as well as a guest.” Gabriel announced clapping his hands together.

“Yes, we brought a few different things like we discussed uncle.” Aziraphale said his voice excited, he let go of Anthony’s hand and rose to get the boxes.

“I’ll take these to the kitchen and slice them up for everyone to try.” He said carrying the boxes into the other room.

“I’ll come help you.” Anthony said rising fluidly from his chair and trailing after Aziraphale.

Ignoring Aziraphale’s protests Anthony followed him through the swinging door separating the dining room and the kitchen.

Aziraphale placed the boxes on the kitchen counter and turned to Anthony with a little smile.

“Are you doing okay angel?” Anthony asked, one hand floating to Aziraphale’s waist and the other tracing his cheek with his fingertips.

“Yes, it’s not going terribly awful, are you doing okay?” Aziraphale asked, placing his hand gently on Anthony’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, you know me, cool as a cucumber.” Anthony said with a grin, placing a quick kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead.

Aziraphale smiled, “Let’s serve up some desserts before someone comes barging in.”

Anthony chuckled and looked around for some small plates while Aziraphale grabbed some serving utensils.

They served up the desserts and carried them into the dining room and placed one in front of each of them before sitting back down in their chairs.

“So, Aziraphale, what all did you bring?” Gabriel asked looking at the desserts on the plate, inspecting them as if they were toxic insects.

“Well I went through grandfather’s old recipe book, and Anthony helped me, and we made chocolate, ginger, and cherry tiffin, caramel hazelnut brownies, and of course apple pie.” Aziraphale said proudly his eyes searching his aunts and uncles for approval.

“Hmm, commendable Aziraphale, it shows that you’re working on improving.” Gabriel said hesitantly.

Aziraphale’s smile faltered slightly, “Are you going to taste them uncle?”

Gabriel glanced up at Aziraphale, “I do not consume gross matter, unnecessary sugars or carbs like some people tend to indulge in,” he paused giving a pointed look to Aziraphale’s belly pressing against the table. “it looks appealing enough, everything but the apple pie, that doesn’t seem to be any different in presentation than it usually is.” Gabriel said poking at the desserts with a fork.

Anthony noticed Aziraphale’s shoulders fell inward slightly. Anthony reached under the table and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s knee. Anthony’s jaw snapped closed and he opened his mouth to say something about what Gabriel could do with that “gross matter”

“I think it tastes wonderful, as someone who loves indulging on sugar and carbs I would be an excellent judge of these delicious desserts.” Anthony praised Aziraphale giving him a smile that could light the darkest ocean trench.

Aziraphale felt a warmth spread through him at Anthony’s reply to his uncle’s rude comment and he took in a slow deep breath and raised his gaze up from his lap.

“Aunt Uriel, Aunt Michaela? Uncle Randolph? What do you all think?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes flitting to each person as he said their name.

“I like the brownies, the tiffin is okay, the pie tastes like every other apple pie on earth, I would go with the brownies.” Michaela said waving a hand around as she spoke.

“The tiffin cherries taste a little too tart, are they overripe?” Uriel asked wrinkling her nose.

Anthony glared at her, “No they aren’t overripe.” He said, trying exceedingly hard not to snap at her.

She raised an eyebrow at him and continued to try the tiffin.

“I suppose it doesn’t overripe, just extremely tart.” She said, her nose wrinkling again and she pushed the tiffin to the edge of her plate with her fork.

“Why did you make such an overabundance of desserts Aziraphale? We don’t all wish to indulge in such gluttonous behaviors, one piece each should be enough for everyone, and you made enough for three times that Whatever are you going to do with the leftovers?” Randolph asked with a sneer.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed angrily, he felt his mouth pull into a snarl, and felt a growling anger bubbling up from deep inside him, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could Aziraphale started talking, “Well, I wanted to make several desserts so we could have options to talk about for the contest. Uncle Gabriel didn’t think that making apple pie again this year would be such a good idea, but I wondered if the presentation of it were different, if there were designs on the crust maybe that would be the cutting edge we need to win again.” He explained waving his free hand in the air as he talked.

Randolph mused over this reply, “Hmm, well I do think father’s pie would be too much of an expected entry this year to win again. No matter how much you tart it up.”

Aziraphale frowned, “Well, I know that the judges always enjoy grandfather’s pie recipe, especially Mr. Shadwell, who was grandfather’s friend. I would think that maybe just doing a different crust design or adding more spice would make it tip top. Maybe use more than one kind of apple for the filling. I just, if I, we do enter the contest this year I would like to enter it with grandfather’s pie. It was his favorite thing to bake and it would make it feel like he was here even temporarily.” Aziraphale explained gently, his voice soft.

“What do you mean if we enter the contest? Of course, we’re going to enter the contest. We have to show those Deville’s that they are nothing but worthless trash don’t you agree?” Gabriel said absentmindedly as he continued to inspect the desserts.

Anthony felt ice trickling down his spine at the mention of his family, the mention of him, he already knew that he was trash, Aziraphale’s next words may determine how he feels about him, the real him. His aunts and uncle all nodded their heads in approval, and Anthony wanted to crawl under the table.

“Uncle, the Deville’s are just fiercely protective of their family, their legacy as we are. I know this feud goes back generations, but this is getting so out of hand between both families.” Aziraphale he took a breath, “there doesn’t have to be a war over this.” He said firmly

“Of course there does, otherwise how would we win it?” His uncle snapped, his full attention brought back to Aziraphale and the conversation they were having, his violet toned eyes burning.

“We can always withdraw from the competition this year, we’ve won the last oh, several years in a row. We could let someone else take the trophy home this year, have a healthy competition instead of a bitter rivalry, possibly for the greater good since the Deville’s keep assaulting our orchards.” Aziraphale tittered nervously.

“Aziraphale this is what being an Eden is all about, this is what our family legacy is. Especially since you aren’t providing any children to pass the bakery onto.” Gabriel said in a condescending tone.

“It hasn’t always been what being an Eden is all about.” Aziraphale murmured stabbing a piece of the pie with his fork.

“What was that?” Gabriel asked an eyebrow arched, his lips pulling into a sneer.

“I for one don’t like us being connected with this feud that we have against the Devilles.” Aziraphale said quietly.

Anthony was on the edge of his chair listening to Aziraphale talk about not wanting there to be a feud between their families anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t hate him after he told him tonight, after he told him the secret that had been like a dark cloud over his soul.

“Don’t tell me you are betraying everything that this family stands for, everything that our family grew from, because you don’t like confrontation.” Gabriel said shaking his head in exasperation.

“No, I’m not a fan of confrontation, but that’s not the reason I don’t want us connected to that.” Aziraphale said.

“So, what is it then? You met someone in the Deville family, and they turned out to be nice and pure and showed you what true goodness in the world is, or are you just stupid?” His uncle asked sarcastically.

Anthony felt like he was going to throw up all over the table if this conversation continued in the direction it was going.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “Of course not, and I know people don’t just change with a snap of their fingers. That whole family, they are untrustworthy as, as…” Aziraphale trailed off losing his train of thought.

“Rats.” Anthony murmured, wanting to crawl into the nearest hole and wait for death.

Aziraphale glanced at him, surprised at his supplementing description he gave his hand a squeeze. Aziraphale took a couple deep breaths and calmly said, “It could be, I dunno, for the greater good perhaps if we withdraw, if we reevaluate our family’s legacy. I want our bakery and store to be associated with more than that. More people associate us with the feud than how good our produce is or how good our baked goods are.” Aziraphale said pushing the food on his plate around with his fork.

“Don’t you tell me about the “greater good” Sunshine, I’m Gabriel fucking Eden, I know all about the Greater Good, we are not withdrawing. This isn’t just a simple competition it’s a war Aziraphale, and we can’t win if we don’t participate. You are a part of this family and you will act as such so you aren’t humiliating us in the streets of London.” Gabriel’s tone turned into audible poison, his gaze turning into hate.

Aziraphale was silent, starting to shut down, he felt his gaze turning glassy, felt his mind going into a tunnel. The only thing keeping him tethered was Anthony’s hand squeezing his tightly, his thumb brushing across his dimpled knuckles.

“Is this about your ridiculous bookstore again?” Gabriel asked with a laugh.

Aziraphale didn’t respond but the stains of pink on his cheeks gave himself away.

“Aziraphale you are the only one that can keep the bakery open, don’t you want father’s memory, his legacy to continue? That bakery was his dream, the only one he saw to fruition besides having a family to pass it and the orchards onto. If you let that dream die, then what is that saying about your love for him?” Gabriel asked, his voice seemingly kind, but Anthony could identify the barbs of venom underneath.

“Why can’t any of you run the bakery then?” Anthony demanded pointing his fork at Gabriel.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise, he wasn’t expecting Anthony to step into the conversation with his uncle.

“We are running the farm and orchards and store. We can’t possibly run the bakery also, just so Aziraphale can fritter about reading.” Gabriel said simply.

“Well there’s four of you yeah? You have farmhands helping with the fruits and whatnot, why not hire a few more farmhands, one of you run the bakery and then let Aziraphale open his bookstore. I’m sure his grandfather wouldn’t feel insulted at that, pretty sure he’d be happy that Aziraphale is following his own dreams like he did.” Anthony said tipping on the back two legs of his chair, trying to sound aloof, but underneath he was brimming with annoyance.

Gabriel’s cool demeanor turned icy immediately, his eyes narrowed at Anthony, “What does it even matter to you? You aren’t a part of this in the slightest and your input is as insignificant as a dust speck.”

“Uncle!” Aziraphale snapped, his nervous demeanor turning to anger.

“Just because he’s your apprentice doesn’t mean he has any input on the family business. We are blood, we are family, and this is how we keep going.” Gabriel shouted slamming a fist on the table.

“He is more than my apprentice. He is also my boyfriend, and he cares about me, cares about my dreams and hopes. That is why he cares.” Aziraphale exclaimed raising his hand that was entwined with Anthony’s above the table.

Gabriel looked like he smelled something that had been rotting under the hot sun, Uriel had a single eyebrow arched, Michaela looked scandalized, and Randolph was turning red with rage.

“Sinners! Blaspheming disgusting degenerates!” Randolph shouted pointing an accusatory finger at Aziraphale and Anthony.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue but his uncle’s bible verse screaming was drowning out everything else in a five-kilometer radius. He looked at Anthony who was just looking at him with concern in his eyes.

“God will smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit!” His uncle shouted rising from his chair raising a fist in the air.

Anthony jumped up, immediately in protective mode over Aziraphale, willing to dive in front of a launched fork if he had to. Aziraphale rose just as quickly, throwing a protective arm out in front of Anthony, preparing for what was coming.

His uncle drew back his fist and released something in the air, Aziraphale turned his head and closed his eyes while Anthony flinched slightly, expecting a knife or something to be thrown, not a fine white grainy powder.

“Wot in hell?” He asked trying to inspect what was thrown.

“It’s salt.” Aziraphale muttered glancing up at Anthony.

“Salt?” Anthony asked incredulously.

“Salt to purify your disgraceful ways!” Randolph shouted; his face still red with rage.

Anthony looked between Randolph and Aziraphale with his mouth slightly open, and then he just broke into a grin and started laughing.

Aziraphale was surprised at the reaction and smiled up at Anthony, letting his arm drop to his side, his hand outreached for Anthony’s.

Anthony smiled at Aziraphale and took his hand in his and looked around the table.

“Lovely to meet you all, ta very much.” Anthony said tipping an imaginary hat and nodded his head toward the exit.

Aziraphale nodded and turned to his family, “I’m sorry the evening ended in such an argumentative way. Thank you for having us over, we will be taking our leave now.”

He took a step and then paused, his voice wavering as he spoke, “I do hope that we can come to an understanding about the contest, and if I simply must enter it, that we can find out a way to do so with grandfather’s apple pie recipe. But I understand that you are all probably unhappy with some things that I’ve said tonight. If you happen to want to talk to me about tonight’s conversation, you all have my mobile number, and you know where I work.” Aziraphale said his eyes brimming with tears as he nodded at his family.

He didn’t stay to see their reaction to his departure, and he and Anthony walked out the door and to the Bentley, Anthony opening the door for Aziraphale and letting him climb in before circling the front and getting into the driver’s seat.

They sat in silence for a moment Anthony turned to Aziraphale and reached up with a gentle hand and brushed his cheek with his pointed knuckles.

Aziraphale turned to face Anthony, and Anthony cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hand, and he let his thumb gently wipe away the tears that were sliding down the cherubic cheeks.

Aziraphale blinked a couple times, not realizing that he had been crying, and he took in a haggard breath. He looked up at Anthony, his reflection in the dark lenses of the sunglasses looking a mess.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Anthony, this entire evening was a complete nightmare. I’m sorry to have subjected you to it all. I’m not worth all this aggravation.” Aziraphale said choking back a sob.

“Hey hey hey, shhh shhhh shhh.” Anthony soothed, pulling Aziraphale into an embrace, letting him bury his face in his chest and cry as much as he needed to. He rubbed his back and tried to coach him into deep breathing, slow releasing.

After sitting for a few moments following Anthony’s cues Aziraphale took a deep breath and raised his face from Anthony’s chest.

“Oh, I think I’ve ruined your shirt.” He said running a finger along the tear-soaked fabric.

“I don’t care about this silly shirt. I care about you.” Anthony said shaking his head.

Aziraphale chuckled another sob wracking through him, “I-I don’t want to go home, not yet, there’s too much, too much there.” Aziraphale whispered gently.

Anthony ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls, “I’ll give you a lift, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go angel. You name the place and I’ll take you. Even if you can’t name it.” He murmured, trying to soothe his crying angel.

“Somewhere safe.” Aziraphale whispered.

The only place popping into Anthony’s mind was his plant room, that was the place he felt the safest besides Aziraphale’s.

“I could, I could take you to, I could take you to my flat, if you’d like. You’ll be safe there, you can meet the plants, and be in the plant room. It’s the place I feel the safest besides your place.” Anthony stuttered out not wanting to sound like a tossing wanker.

Aziraphale sniffed and then looked up at Anthony, his blue eyes shimmering with tears, “That, that would be okay.” He whispered through little sobs.

Anthony started the Bentley and pulled out of the drive and headed towards the direction of his flat.

As Anthony drove Aziraphale could hear all the insults his family had hurled at him throughout dinner, could hear the snide comments and rude assumptions. He could feel the disgust and disgrace that had radiated from his family, the shame. He could hear them in his grandfather’s voice, his real voice diminishing with time, his mind replacing it with Gabriel’s voice. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and began rocking slightly back and forth, trying to keep his breathing under control.

Aziraphale felt a gentle touch on his knee, and he jerked, forgetting where he was and what was happening. Anthony, of course Anthony, the one thing, the one person in this world that he could rely on. In the entire time he had known him he had never been cruel, never hurtful, never belittling. He was always kind, always understanding, always encouraging always helpful and wonderful. Anthony was the only light in this world that he could see, and Aziraphale didn’t want to get lost in the darkness that he was feeling in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagined Randolph being much more cruel at the dinner with his hate mongering, but I couldn't bring myself to write it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Aziraphale go to Anthony's flat to have some soft comforting time after the horrendous dinner with the Edens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft, comfort, cuddles, illusions to OTHER THINGS but no smut, kisses hugging. The good stuff.

Chapter 24

At one point in the drive Anthony had flipped on a classical music station and the soothing familiar tones helped Aziraphale tether back to the car. That and the gentle but firm touch of his hand on Aziraphale’s knee.

Anthony kept stealing glances at Aziraphale, feeling his stomach knot and his heart ache, the whole dinner seemed like an excuse for his family to blindside him and just make him feel like shit. The dinner kept replaying itself in Anthony’s head and his hand tightened over the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. When the replays would get to when Aziraphale announced that Anthony was his boyfriend to his homophobic family Anthony felt a zing of pride go through his heart, he glanced at Aziraphale and smiled weakly, his brave, brave boyfriend standing up for him, for them like that. It made him feel wonderful and cowardly at the same time.

As they got closer to Anthony’s flat, he started feeling anxious, what if his uncle or cousins was waiting there for him like they had been sporadically the last few months? They would ambush Aziraphale and make everything go to shit. Anthony’s nerves kept spiking the closer they got until he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest when he pulled into his usual parking spot.

He turned off the car and they sat a moment in silence before Anthony turned to Aziraphale, “Well here we are, home sweet home.” He said bitterly.

Aziraphale gave him a weak smile, “Thank you for bringing me here and not making me go home.” He said, his voice sounding very far away.

Anthony gave him a sad smile and then climbed out of the driver’s side and quickly circled the car to open the door and help Aziraphale out. As he circled the car, he did a sweep of the parking area, and didn’t see any family cars parked anywhere, which eased his mind only slightly.

He gave Aziraphale his hand and helped him out of the Bentley, locking the doors behind them Anthony led him by the arm inside the apartment building and to the lift. They rode the lift in silence until the doors opened and a small old woman was standing at the open doors with a small little dog.

“Hullo Ms. Edie.” Anthony greeted her warmly.

“Anthony dear, how are you?” She asked in a high-pitched brittle voice, the dog shaking in her thin arms.

“Pretty good, how are you? How’s Biscuit?” He asked giving the dog a scratch behind the ears.

Aziraphale smiled as Anthony and Mrs. Applebaum chatted, her appearance was that similar to a bird, her large spectacles making her brown eyes seem the size of dinner plates, her white hair was curled and tied up in a pink scarf, she was extremely short, barely coming up to his shoulders. She was wearing an oversized brown coat that made her seem slightly bigger than the small scruffy dog she held.

“And who is this handsome gentleman friend you have with you?” She asked, her voice bringing Aziraphale into focus.

“This is Aziraphale, he is my boyfriend, Aziraphale this is my neighbor Ms. Edie and her dog Biscuit.” Anthony said proudly, giving Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze.

“Hello Aziraphale, dear.” The little woman said with a smile offering a small gloved hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Edie, Biscuit.” Aziraphale greeted shaking her hand and giving the dog’s head a little pat.

“Well we’d better get going, don’t want to be out there when the storm starts, nice to see you both loves.” She said giving them a departing smile and getting onto the lift as they stepped out.

“She’s real sweet, sometimes I get to pet sit Biscuit when she goes to see her daughter in France.” Anthony said as they reached the door to his flat.

“She seems like an adorable woman.” Aziraphale murmured unthreading his hand from Anthony’s so he could fish for his keys and unlock the door.

“Er, would, could, would you mind staying out here for just a moment so I can quickly pick up a few things? I left the place as a Chernobyl tribute when I left earlier.” Anthony asked his tone full of nerves.

“Of course, that’s fine, yes I can wait right here.” Aziraphale said unfazed.

Anthony bit his lower lip as the key turned, “Be right back.” He said slipping into the flat and shutting the door behind him.

Anthony quickly and tentatively did a sweep of the flat to make sure none of his family or any cronies were hiding in the shadows waiting to spring on him or Aziraphale. He let his long legs hurry through the flat opening every door and turning on every light and check under any cabinets or tables.

Thankfully no one was lying in wait to intimidate him today and he hurried back to the front door and opened it with a smile, “Alright, put away all my dirty clothes come on in.” He said offering his hand to Aziraphale to take.

Aziraphale gave him a weak smile and put his hand in Anthony’s and followed him through the doorway of the flat. Aziraphale looked around the flat taking in the insides of Anthony’s private world. Anthony kicked off his shoes by the door and Aziraphale followed his lead. The lighting was dim, which came as no surprise to Aziraphale, Anthony would want to be comfortable in his own home, the floors were a cold gray hard surface, almost stone like. The walls were bare and gray slightly a lighter shade than the floors, the door frames were black and everywhere Aziraphale looked it was rather bare and empty. The living room had a simple black sofa and a coffee table a television on the wall, in the adjoining dining area was a large ornate table with a chair at each end, the chairs were antiques, must have been several decades old, if not centuries, they looked like small thrones with decorative gold painted embellishments and red cushions.

Aziraphale looked at them curiously and looked at Anthony who smiled sheepishly with a shrug, “it was a gift when I moved into my own place, thought it’d be rude if I didn’t keep it. Though I only use it to really pile junk on top of.” He said with a laugh.

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully as they continued the small tour, there was a study that had a desk and some books shelved on the wall, a globe on the desk, “Nothing too spectacular in here,” Anthony said waving at the room ruefully.

Aziraphale followed him and he gestured to his bedroom, “the bedroom is over there, and the loo is conjoining to that, inconvenient but it works.” Anthony stopped and looked at Aziraphale, “do you need anything angel?” He asked gently his hand reaching up to cup Aziraphale’s face.

“I would like to freshen up a bit, if that’s alright.” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Sure, here I’ll take you to the loo, not because I think you’ll get lost or anything, but I want to get out of these clothes, get into something comfortable. I’ll do that and then I’ll show you the best part of the place.” Anthony said quickly a blush flitting across his cheeks.

Aziraphale gave a weak smile and followed Anthony to his bedroom, it at least had plush gray carpeting and seemed a bit warmer than the rest of the place, though still cast in shadows. Still devoid of décor, it had the simple furnishings of a bedroom, bed, dresser, bedside table and that was all. The dresser had a humidifier looking thing on top as well as different pairs of sunglasses.

“Loo’s right there.” Anthony waved his hand in the direction of the door.

Aziraphale unclasped Anthony’s hand and went into the loo to freshen up, he was afraid he looked an awful fright.

When Aziraphale shut the door behind him Anthony quickly changed from his nicer outfit into a simple set of black checkered fleece pajama pants and a plain black t-shirt he pulled from a drawer. He ran a brush through his hair and tossed his sunglasses on the dresser. Before Aziraphale came out of the loo he wanted to make the plant room the most calming place he could.

He grabbed his cell phone, and dug around in a closet in the hallway, pulling out an armful of several thick blankets and pillows, and tossed them in the middle of the floor of the plant room. Then looking them over and looking at the floor frowning he grabbed all the cushions off the couch and brought them as well. He then went back to his bedroom, seeing that Aziraphale was still in the loo and grabbed the black hulking piece off of the top of the dresser. He brought it to the plant room and plugged it in, not ready to turn it on yet he began to organize the blankets and cushions on the floor.

Aziraphale took in a deep breath and looked himself over in the mirror. His face was red and blotchy from crying, his eyes looked heavy with weariness, his curls were all over the place making him look like a wild man. He sighed and looked around for a washcloth starting the hot water.

Finding what he was looking for under the sink he tested the water with his hand and then let the water soak the cloth before washing his face thoroughly, trying to wash away the evening and the weariness on his face. He was at Anthony’s flat, his boyfriend’s flat, he should be excited, exhilarated in fact, but he was just exhausted. He washed his face several times and attempted to tidy his curls a bit. He looked at his reflection again and sighed, hanging up the washcloth to dry. He looked around Anthony’s restroom, noticing several different pill bottles and eye drops on the counter, a rubber duck soap dispenser was sitting next to the sink and it made him smile. So unexpected, Anthony was always surprising him.

He opened the door to the restroom and stepped out into Anthony’s bedroom, Anthony was no longer in it, but he could hear him shuffling around down the hallway. Aziraphale looked around the bedroom again, his eyes falling on a framed photograph he had missed before that was on top of his dresser, a photograph of a woman and a boy. The woman had the same red hair as Anthony, and the same nose, but she had green eyes and freckles all over her face and arms. She was hugging the boy and pressing a kiss to his head, the little boy was clearly a younger version of Anthony, his hair was short in a short little buzz cut, he was smiling with a blush painted on his face, his golden eyes shining. He smiled at the photo and placed the frame back on the dresser and headed out of the bedroom. He walked toward where he heard Anthony fussing around and he stopped at the entryway of what was clearly the plant room.

Giant plants towered over them, nearly brushing the ceilings at their tallest points, tall palm plants that were growing wildly out of enormous planters. Big leafy plants that looked like they were taken from a rainforest their leaves wide and luscious green painting the room majestic colors.

“Hey angel.” Anthony said standing upright, he had been shaking a blanket out on the floor.

Aziraphale looked and saw that the hard floors were covered in blankets and pillows and cushions.

“Anthony, what’s all this?” He asked his eyebrows furrowing quizzically.

“You wanted to go somewhere safe and comfortable, and this is the place that brings me the best peace. So, I wanted to make it as peaceful for you as I could, but first, let me introduce you to the family.” He grinned playfully.

He bounded over to Aziraphale’s side and led him to one of the towering palm plants, “This is Priscilla, she is a bit of a diva, gets angry when she doesn’t get the most sun time, but she’s a towering queen of a plant, aren’t you?” Anthony asked giving the palm fronds a delicate touch.

Aziraphale’s mouth quirked into a half smile, “Lovely to meet you Priscilla.” he nodded at the tall regal plant.

“This bugger is Jasper, he is more fond of the special soils I use, but too much will make him sick, and we do not stand for spots in this house.” Anthony’s tone turned mildly threatening, but the grin that stayed in place showed his adoration of his plants.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance.” Aziraphale nodded at the Zanzibar with the deep green leaves.

“This beautiful princess is Gwendolyn, she isn’t as picky as the others, she prefers attention over material things. She especially likes music and being sang to.” Anthony fondly ran a finger along the thick green leaf that hung closest to them.

“Charmed,” Aziraphale bowed his head slightly to the plant that Anthony indicated.

“And this poor guy, is Asher, he is the most, delicate of the group. He had some health scares last month, but he’s getting stronger every day, aren’t you?” Anthony murmured gently brushing the delicate stem of one of the plants that looked like it had been bandaged up.

“It’s so nice to meet you Asher.” Aziraphale said gently.

“I have one more to show you, but she’s lower to the ground, so I figured we could get comfortable before you meet her.” Anthony rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alright.” Aziraphale said curiosity ringing in his voice.

Anthony turned the light dimmer and held out his hands and waited for Aziraphale to take them, Aziraphale hesitantly placed his hands in Anthony’s and Anthony began walking backwards onto the pile of blankets and pillows.

Aziraphale smiled as his feet met with soft cushioning instead of hard laminate. Anthony sunk down onto the cushions on his knees and Aziraphale followed his lead. Anthony sat there in front of Aziraphale, swaying slightly, the cushions giving under his knees making him off balance. Aziraphale was also having some trouble and he swayed forward and backward, almost losing his balance and falling on Anthony.

“Okay, come over here, and then close your eyes.” Anthony murmured, giving Aziraphale’s hands a tug and leading him to the other side of the cushioned floor.

“They’re closed.” Aziraphale said gently once he had regained his balance.

He heard Anthony shifting around and a muffled “Fuck” simultaneous with a heavy thunk.

“Can I open them?” Aziraphale asked concerned.

“No, no not yet.” Anthony said hurriedly.

Aziraphale heard more things being moved and a clicking noise.

“Now can I open them?” He asked curiosity almost getting the better of him.

“Alright, now.” Anthony said from next to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale opened his eyes, and though the lights had been turned off there were lights everywhere, a gentle dark blue the color of the evening sky highlighted with thousands of small pinpricks of brightness. Classical music was coming gently from Anthony’s phone that was sitting upright next to the projector, which was what Aziraphale had mistaken for a humidifier.

“Oh my,” He breathed in awe, his gaze swiveling around the room, it was entirely encased in the darkened fabric of light.

“It’s a starry night projector, it mimics the night sky, the little lights are the constellations and stars. I used to use this when I would get freaked out, first time living on my own and all, every little noise would scare me. But,” he paused and looked at Aziraphale, whose eyes were wide and taking in every detail of the imitation night sky, “But I hoped it would help, with making things calm, for you. Calm and peaceful, and cozy.” Anthony murmured gently, hopefully, watching Aziraphale’s face turn from the constellations to him.

“Oh Anthony, it’s absolutely stunning.” He breathed, all traces of anxiousness and sadness leaving his voice as he spoke.

Anthony grinned up at him, “Now you can meet Alaine.” He said leaning forward on his belly snaking to the very edge of the cushions and wrapping his hands around the base of a small planter.

Aziraphale got on his stomach and lied next to Anthony, his eyes catching on the small planter. The plant that called it home was reaching upward toward the ceiling, gentle and elegant, but delicate, and from Anthony’s expression the favorite of his plants.

“This is Alaine, she is a strelitzia, she was the last plant that my mother started to tend before she died. They live an awfully long time because that was close to twenty years ago, but she’s shy. Her sepals are still surrounding…” Anthony trailed off his eyes growing wide and his mouth dropping open.

Aziraphale’s gaze flickered from Anthony’s face to Alaine, the sepals that were protecting her engorged buds were flickering, slowly, delicately, as if time had slowed. They watched mesmerized, barely daring to breathe, as they watched the slow unfurling of her sepals until they curled underneath the bud a protective skirt for her to bloom. They watched closely, so not to miss a thing, as the bud began to slowly twist, unwrapping from the delicate newborn petals of color. Peekaboos of orange, yellow, blue, and purple hinted as the petals began to slowly and meticulously unfurl from the bud, twisting and expanding, a delicate dance of nature. They sprang apart, orange petals spiking outwards, as the accordion of rainbow petals continued to open, starting to resemble the tropical birds of which they were named after.

Anthony barely dared to blink, Alaine was finally ready to bloom, after twenty years she was finally ready, all the coddling and care and protecting he had done for her and she was finally ready. And it was when Aziraphale was here, this man that he had felt more deeply for than anyone, anything in his wretched life. Aziraphale, who protected him and defended him fiercely from his horrid family. Aziraphale, who he felt so much for that it hurt him inside to even think of him sometimes. Aziraphale, who he was keeping a secret from that would cause him pain and knowing that caused him his own agony.

Aziraphale glanced away from the plant to Anthony who was looking at him, tears quietly sliding down his cheeks.

“Dearest?” Aziraphale murmured, not wanting to disturb Alaine’s growth, but wanting to comfort Anthony he clumsily reached a hand to cup Anthony’s face and wipe the stray tear falling down his sharp cheekbone.

Anthony sniffed, trying to get himself under control, “I’m just, speechless.” He said grasping for a word to sufficiently wrap his feelings in.

Aziraphale gave him a gentle smile, “She is a little miracle.” As he said this, he wiped another tear away.

Anthony gave a small half smile, “Let’s, let’s let her rest, she’s probably sick of all the attention.” He said nodding his head toward Alaine.

He sat up on his knees and crawled toward a pile of pillows that he had propped against the wall, Aziraphale followed him and stayed on his knees waiting for direction. Anthony plopped onto his back and leaned against the pillows and waved Aziraphale over, “Come get comfortable.” He said.

Aziraphale hesitated a moment and then crawled over to where Anthony was and turned and leaned against the pillows.

Anthony reached for his hand, “How are you feeling?” He murmured in a low tone turning to look at Aziraphale’s profile.

Aziraphale sighed frustrated, “I feel, muddled. All of their cruel words are still swimming in my head, towards me towards you. I’m not regretful of the things I said to them, but I wish that I had said more. Wishing I had been more courageous about what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking.”

“You were very courageous, more courageous than I’ve been.” Anthony said giving Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze.

“I don’t understand how they can be so cruel.” Aziraphale said with a sob escaping his throat.

“Hey hey shh shh shh.” Anthony soothed as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him closer, letting him bury his face into his narrow chest.

Aziraphale let the tears he had been keeping at bay fall freely, not afraid of showing these fears to Anthony, he trusted him to not hurt him, he trusted him completely.

Anthony had one arm wrapped around Aziraphale tightly, sinking into his plush form that was draped in the soft sweater, his other hand stroked his hair down trying to comfort him, soothe him, let him know that everything was okay in this moment.

“I don’t understand, I’ve tried so hard my whole life to do right by them, to make them proud, and they act like I’m nothing but a disgrace to them for merely existing. Existing in this fat body, existing as a homosexual man, existing with dreams beyond the bakery.” Aziraphale sobbed angrily into Anthony’s chest, his voice dripping with disgust as he described how he was existing, insinuating that he was wrong to exist in the way he was.

“Aziraphale, look at me.” Anthony said firmly, unwinding his arm from around him and tipping his chin upward.

Aziraphale did so, not wanting to meet his golden gaze, but reluctantly doing so, Anthony’s firm grip and slender hand holding his chin in place, “You are not a disgrace, there is nothing wrong with you, and there is nothing wrong with the way you exist in this world.” Every word he spoke emphatically, trying to help Aziraphale see that he meant what he said.

“But they,” Aziraphale started,

“But they are a bunch of heartless fools, and they do not, and should not, be what determine those things about you. You are everything good in this world, wrapped up in this beautiful package, a gift to everyone you meet.” Anthony murmured his golden eyes searching Aziraphale’s face, wanting him to see the honesty in his eyes, the honesty on this subject.

Aziraphale gave a small sigh, “I believe dear, that you are biased.” He said forcing a small smile.

“Biased or not, the first day that I ever saw you, I thought you were the most pure and beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on, and that was before I even knew you. Now that I’m in love with you it just shows that it’s even truer than that first day.” Anthony murmured gently, his eyes searching Aziraphale’s face.

His blue eyes widened, “You, you are in love with me?” He asked, his voice breathless, his heartbeat quickening, his chest fitting to burst.

“I am in love with you, and I love you, completely.” Anthony whispered his thumb stroking Aziraphale’s plush cheek, feeling delight when it changed to pink under his touch.

Aziraphale was struck speechless for a moment, he didn’t realize Anthony felt so strongly for him, didn’t realize he, he, being so beautifully perfect, would feel that sense of feeling for him, with how he was, how opposite they were.

“I-I,” Aziraphale started stumbling over his words.

Anthony raised a hand, “I’m not asking you to, you don’t have to say it back, if you don’t feel it, if you aren’t ready, but I wanted to tell you how I felt. I don’t, I’m not, I’m not asking you to love me back. It’s okay if you don’t. But I-I wanted you to know, that even if I’m a smidge biased now, I wasn’t then.” Anthony stammered, his nerves beginning to overtake him.

Aziraphale stared at him his mouth had dropped open in surprise.

Anthony felt the butterflies fluttering inside him, but they felt like they were all going to throw up, this isn’t how this was supposed to go, he wasn’t supposed to tell him until he had told him everything. But he had seemed to believe those fucking cruel people that he was related to when they said he was a disgrace, and he couldn’t stand him believing that.

“I love you also Anthony my dear, my beloved, I love you and I am in love with you.” Aziraphale breathed, his voice full of nerves.

Anthony’s lips stretched into a smile, his eyes were brimming with tears, he leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale on the forehead. Cursing himself as he did so, how could he be so fucking selfish, so stupid, this was not going how he had planned, not at all.

At the slightest touch of Anthony’s lips to his temple Aziraphale collapsed against his chest, his large arms wrapping around his slender torso, more sobs wracking through him, unashamed of the tears that were falling, of the blotchy skin that would accompany, he knew Anthony was being truthful, and he knew that Anthony wouldn’t care.

Anthony wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly, held him close, his silent tears turning into an audible cry. He didn’t know if his heart could take this, he needed to tell Aziraphale before it tore him apart. Before it tore them apart, but he couldn’t tell him tonight, not now, not after he admitted his love to him.

They held each other until their tears dried and the sobs quieted, Anthony leaned down a little and gave Aziraphale another kiss amidst his curls.

Aziraphale looked up, tipping his chin back and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Anthony’s mouth. Anthony looked down at Aziraphale’s beautiful sapphire eyes and a wave of affection and love washed over him, consumed him. He leaned downward and placed a hesitant kiss on Aziraphale’s plump lips.

At the touch of Anthony’s lips on his Aziraphale felt like his chest was going to explode with the abundance of feelings he was having.

He unwrapped his arms from around Anthony and slid them to his face, holding each side in his hands, delicately, his lips pressing tighter against Anthony’s, a burning in the pit of his stomach like he had never felt before.

Anthony felt Aziraphale’s hands on either side of his face and he nearly went up in flames and collapsed in a pile of ash. Anthony brought his hands to the back of Aziraphale’s neck and buried his fingers half in his golden curls and half along the nape of his neck, the sweater tags flicking upward against his fingers making him want to take his teeth to it.

Aziraphale must have felt his frustration because he pulled away, “Is, is everything okay?” He asked hesitantly, afraid to hear if something was wrong.

“No nothing is wrong at all, well, just the bloody tag at the back of your sweater. It keeps popping up and scratching my fingers. I want to rip it off.” Anthony admitted with a sheepish smile.

Aziraphale froze a moment, and then pulled away from Anthony, “You could, you could take it off, the sweater, I mean, not just the tag, if, if you wanted.” Aziraphale stuttered out, his face turning scarlet.

Anthony’s mouth dropped open at the suggestion, he wouldn’t have expected Aziraphale to offer that gift to him.

“Of course, if you don’t want to that’s okay, I don’t want you feeling any obligation.” Aziraphale said quickly seeing the look on Anthony’s face.

“No no no no no, that’s not what this look was for.” Anthony said quickly trying to erase any doubt from Aziraphale’s mind that he would want nothing more than to take his bloody sweater off of his sweet form.

“I’m just surprised and honored that you would give me such a gift of that, of taking your sweater off of you, of seeing you without your sweater. I know it is a big step for you, it, It would be heavenly.” Anthony said raising a hand to Aziraphale’s face, placing his thumb on his bottom lip gently stroking it, a smile breaking across his face.

“If you would like to.” Aziraphale said shifting onto his knees, leaning back on the balls of his feet, his hands at his side.

Anthony leaned away from the pillows, and sat up on his knees, looking at Aziraphale with his face downcast, “I don’t know if I deserve a gift that special.” He murmured his thoughts racing though the secrets he was keeping, the sickening feeling in his stomach when they flitted through his mind.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and reached forward, his tipped Anthony’s chin up with his plump hand and placed a kiss on his lips.

Anthony’s eyes fluttered back open and he looked at Aziraphale as he leaned back into a comfortable position. He gently reached for Aziraphale, placing his hands on his shoulders reassuringly, and then letting his hands slide down to the bottom hem of his sweater. As he threaded the material through his fingers, he looked up at Aziraphale, his face conveyed his nerves, but his eyes showed his determined resolve in giving Anthony this gift.

Anthony took the material of the sweater in his hands and slowly, carefully, pulled it upwards, as he pulled it up, the more it revealed. Anthony was torn between taking his time and relishing every new inch of Aziraphale he was getting to see, and hurrying so he could see Aziraphale, all of him.

Anthony couldn’t take going slow after he saw that first strip of bare flesh, and he pulled the sweater off of Aziraphale and tossed it to the side, not paying attention where it landed, not caring.

Aziraphale’s hands were fidgeting at his sides, and a blush was spreading over his face, down his neck, almost painting him entirely pink. Anthony reached up and held each of Aziraphale’s hands in his, and slowly looked up starting at the bare flesh at the line of his trousers. The trousers sat just under his belly, hugging his thick hips, his large plush middle gracefully curving outward, swooping into twin love handles as it curved into the softness at the bottom of his ribcage. His chest was thickly padded with flesh and just looked simply luxurious. He had gentle silver marks along his sides and at the front of his belly, Anthony realized that they were stretch marks, little evidence that there needed to be more of him in this world.

“Aziraphale, you are beautiful, but beautiful isn’t a strong enough word, you are gorgeous, magnificent, celestial.” Anthony breathed as he took in the pure beauty that was before him.

Aziraphale gave Anthony’s hands a squeeze, a sad smile playing across his lips, “But, even though…” He trailed off, Anthony cutting him off.

“Even though you are fat, even though you have these beautiful marks decorating your skin, even though we look nothing alike, you are beautiful, beautiful, the most beautiful being I have ever laid these wretched eyes on.” Anthony said his voice straining at trying to hold back his desire to kiss every inch of Aziraphale that his eyes were seeing.

Aziraphale’s blue eyes met Anthony’s golden ones, and he smiled tentatively.

“May I, May I touch you? Kiss you?” Anthony choked out, barely able to keep his voice from shaking with the amount of love he was feeling.

“Only, only if, only if I can reciprocate the actions.” Aziraphale murmured shyly.

Anthony held his arms out, wanting Aziraphale to rip his shirt off so he could kiss every inch of his beautiful form.

Aziraphale reached up and fingered the fabric at the bottom of Anthony’s shirt, and he pulled it up carefully, gently. He wanted to see the beauty hiding under Anthony’s clothing, wanted to touch it, kiss it, seemed to be that Anthony wanted to do the same to him.

He pulled the shirt up over Anthony’s head and placed it gently to the side, and he looked at him in awe, he was beautiful, this Aziraphale already knew, but he didn’t know how utterly heavenly he was.

He took his time raking his gaze upwards, taking in every inch of Anthony’s skin, the pale slender hips dipping downward tantalizingly. His flat stomach rising and falling with every breath, matching the pattern of his thin bird like chest, rising and falling. The taut skin over his rib cage barely providing protection for them.

“Heavenly, absolutely heavenly.” Aziraphale breathed meeting Anthony’s golden gaze.

Anthony’s lips twitched into a smile and he leaned forward and paused before touching his lips to Aziraphale’s, “May I?” He asked his voice husky with the flaming desire behind his words.

Aziraphale nodded, too twitterpated to use actual words. Anthony kissed his lips, before bringing his mouth downward. Aziraphale closed his eyes as he felt the sensation of Anthony’s touch along his fat body, as he felt the sensation of his lips kissing his fat body. Like flames licking at his skin, leaving a trail of fire, a kiss placed at his neck, his collar bone, he felt like he was melting beneath Anthony’s lips. He shuddered as Anthony’s lips placed gentle kisses at his chest, right above his heart.

Anthony held his lips at Aziraphale’s heart feeling the racing beats beneath his touch. He smiled as he continued to leave kisses on the celestial body before him. He leaned downward, placing a kiss at the very upward curve of Aziraphale’s plush stomach. He suppressed a moan as he felt how soft his skin was there, he kissed each gentle curve and swoop of the rolls on his sides, remembering that they were called love handles, and what an apt term it was. He trailed his kisses lower still, placing one gently on each slight indentation of his thickened hips, then dragging his lips he paused where his belly button decorated the middle of his belly and placed a tender kiss there. He leaned upward and began leaving trails of kisses up his arm starting at his soft dimpled hand, across his collar bone, and down his other arm, the last kiss placed at his soft fingertips.

Aziraphale shuddered, the feelings going through his mind ones he had never felt before. He smiled broadly at Anthony as he rose back upwards from kissing him, and then as Anthony sat upright Aziraphale leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. Then slowly, mimicking Anthony’s pathway on his body, kissed his neck, then downward over his slender graceful body. Placing a kiss at his chest, over his racing heart, smiling as he felt the quick beating under his delicate skin. He placed a kiss at his sides, making Anthony giggle at how it tickled him, kissed him at the base of his ribs, kissed him at the divots of his hips, kissed the concave area of belly button. Anthony tried to keep his racing thoughts under control, he had never felt like this, inwardly or outwardly, full of love, he was bursting with it. It flowed through his veins. Aziraphale kissed him at one hand, mimicking his earlier trails of kisses and his lips climbed up to his shoulders. His lips danced across his fragile collar bone and down the other arm, fluttering at his fingertips.

Aziraphale sat upright and gazed at Anthony, meeting his golden eyes. “Angel,” he breathed heavily.

“My beloved.” Aziraphale sighed.

Anthony reached his arms outright, inviting Aziraphale to come to him, to be held by him, to be wrapped in him.

Aziraphale met Anthony’s eyes and fell into his embrace, his hands flat against Anthony’s slender chest as he got lost in the sensations of Anthony touching him. Anthony wrapped his long arms around him, his skin burning imprints onto his. Anthony brought his lips to Aziraphale’s, his hand cupping at the base of his neck, and knotting in his hair, gently so not to hurt him. Aziraphale whimpered slightly against Anthony’s lips, his hands trailed from Anthony’s chest his fingers drawing along Anthony’s torso, down towards the pointed angle of his hip.

Anthony felt a zing of lightning flash through him as Aziraphale’s soft fingertips brushed along his sides and curled at his hips and he couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips against Aziraphale’s mouth.

Aziraphale hesitated and pulled away slightly, “Are you alright my beloved?” He asked, concern dripping each syllable as he spoke.

“Ngk, er, yeah I’m f-fine angel. That just f-feels really good, like electricity.” Anthony stammered out.

“One would think electricity would be more painful than pleasurable.” Aziraphale said teasingly giving Anthony’s sides another stroke, making Anthony inhale sharply and his pelvis jerk slightly.

“Trust me, I’m feeling nothing but pleasure.” Anthony said through gritted teeth slowly breathing out.

Aziraphale smirked giving another tickle to Anthony’s sides making him jump and move slowly with deliberation a dancelike movement.

“Bastard, you’re gonna get it now.” Anthony growled at Aziraphale with a wolf like smile.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him and leaned back slightly.

Anthony took advantage of the movement and gently wrapped his fingers around each of Aziraphale’s wrists and pounced, taking Aziraphale by surprise and knocking him backwards onto the cushioned landing, his wrists pinned above his head.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony surprised as Anthony positioned himself above Aziraphale, his knees pinned to either side of him and he looked down at him smirking like a cat that had just pinned down a parakeet. Anthony’s thighs and pelvis pressing against his plush thighs, making him feel every electric current that Anthony had described before, it was as if he had little electrical currents flowing through every inch of his body, with special attention to where they touched.

“I think I can understand the electricity feeling now.” Aziraphale said clearing his throat gently trying not to let his mind go too far down the rabbit hole that he was falling down.

Anthony raised an eyebrow and raised a hand from where he was pinning Aziraphale’s wrists above his head and gently, slowly, tantalizingly, with his fingertips traced Aziraphale’s side from his chest down his luxurious side and down to his hip, dancing along the delicate sensitive skin at underside of his belly, hooking one finger in a belt loop of his trousers, using it as an anchor to keep his hand from wandering too far.

Aziraphale made a purring sound in his throat, “That feels extraordinary, I can see why you described it as an electric strike.” 

Anthony smiled, and placed a kiss at the side of Aziraphale’s jaw and he dipped his body downward, gently pressing against Aziraphale’s soft skin, chest to chest. Anthony’s eyes searched Aziraphale’s face, and he placed a kiss on his lips.

Aziraphale wiggled from side to side trying to get one of his hands out from Anthony’s grasp, he was aching to touch him, to hold him tightly against himself to trace his willowy body with his fingertips.

“Might I have my hands back dearest?” He asked once he realized he was unable to free himself on his own.

At the request Anthony let Aziraphale’s wrists loose and shivered as Aziraphale ran his hands along Anthony’s back, a trail of fire down his spine as his fingers slowly trailed downwards. Gently tracing, sliding his hands down, dancing along his sides again, making Anthony inhale sharply again, the zings of electricity going through him again, unintentionally arching his back and applying pressure with his hips onto Aziraphale’s pelvis.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the sensations he was feeling when Anthony arched his back to the touches Aziraphale was applying to the small of his back and his sides. Anthony’s hips and thighs pressed against him, he felt like the butterflies in his stomach had metamorphosed into a volcano, and with that reaction the volcano erupted making a hot lava wash through his veins.

Aziraphale inhaled sharply and felt an aching shudder go through him and he gripped Anthony’s sides tightly, trying to remember how to breathe. Aziraphale glanced up at Anthony and the same look of desire flashed through Anthony’s eyes that he knew was in his own eyes as well.

Wordlessly Anthony brought one hand up to Aziraphale’s face and cradled his cheek in his hand, and he pressed a gentle kiss upon his lips. Aziraphale’s hands held Anthony at his narrow waist and he pulled Anthony closer, he wanted him to be nearer, completely, fully.

Anthony let Aziraphale pull him closer and he kissed him back gently, and then a wave of desire crashed inside him. He needed Aziraphale to pull him closer, he needed to be closer, he needed to hold Aziraphale closer.

They broke apart to take a breath and Anthony dragged his lips down to Aziraphale’s neck, “Come closer.” He murmured against the soft skin at his throat.

“I’m right here darling.” Aziraphale said gently running his fingertips up and down Anthony’s back.

“Aziraphale.” Anthony breathed, his voice cracking with emotion, hovering right above Aziraphale’s lips, waiting, wanting to hear his name on his lips.

“Anthony.” Aziraphale sighed his voice soft and quivering slightly as he pulled Anthony closer to him. Aziraphale felt himself dissolving at Anthony’s slightest touch, and he did not want to return to a state without Anthony’s touch against his skin.

Anthony felt himself falling into Aziraphale, into the heavenly clouds that swirled around him, and this was one fall he did not want to resurface from.

Aziraphale stirred against Anthony’s bare chest, waking Anthony gently. Anthony’s eyes flickered open and he glanced down at Aziraphale who was nestled against him, his face resting on Anthony’s chest, one plump hand curled under his chin, the other resting along Anthony’s side. Anthony pulled the blanket covering them up higher to Aziraphale’s shoulders, he wanted to make sure Aziraphale wasn’t getting cold. He smiled into Aziraphale’s curls, and let his gaze flit to the projected stars and constellations on the ceiling. Sighing with a gentle contentment he wanted to just lay here, stay here, with him. Anthony felt like he was wrapped in a cocoon of clouds, swirling like a heaven around him, a warmth unlike anything he had ever felt before.

“Anthony.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft and gentle, like a feather drifting through the air.

Anthony looked down and a smile danced across his lips, Aziraphale was talking in his sleep and he was going to melt at the cuteness of it.

Anthony gently gave Aziraphale a kiss on the temple and let his head fall back as he looked at the ceiling replaying everything in his mind, wanting to fall asleep, wanting to lull to sleep and be as peaceful as Aziraphale looked.

He gazed aimlessly at the stars on the ceiling, the classical music still playing quietly from his phone, he felt like he was floating in a tunnel, the edges of his vision spotting in multicolored dots before going black as his gaze went glossy, his mind flitting between what they had just done, and what he was too cowardly to have admitted before they did it. He felt his heart tightening with a clench and felt his stomach rolling. He made himself sick, he was a coward, and now, there was no way that he could tell Aziraphale his secrets without Aziraphale being hurt beyond belief. He needed to tell him, he didn’t want to continue lying to him, he didn’t want to feel like he was going to be sick with every embrace they shared, with every kiss they gave, with every evening they spent together.

Anthony took in a shaky breath and tried to calm down and slowly release it, but it wrapped around his lungs, around his throat and choked him, making tears come to his eyes. He had to hold still, or he would wake Aziraphale, and how in the hell would he explain to him why he was crying. He bit his bottom lip hard to keep muffled, to keep quiet, he inhaled again slowly and when he was sure he could be quiet he exhaled, tears streaming down his face. He sobbed quietly, and though he didn’t deserve it, he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale tighter, closer to him, so he could sear the warmth of him into his heart so he could always keep that.

As Aziraphale slept he felt Anthony’s arms tighten around him and felt him place kisses delicately on his forehead. Aziraphale smiled and sighed happily in his sleep as he nestled himself closer into Anthony’s embrace. He was still far from waking up, but could never recall a moment where his reality was far better than his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify yes they had sex, but I dont like writing that kinda thing so that's why it alludes to it more than goes in depth.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little morning cuddling gets cut short by some visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some rude fatphobic and homophobic phrases in this chapter.   
> It starts cute and fluffy and ends, not so much cute and fluffy.

Aziraphale woke the next morning still wrapped in Anthony’s arms, his plump cheek pressed against his bare chest, Aziraphale peeked up at Anthony, who looked down at Aziraphale and grinned.

“How long have you been awake?” Aziraphale asked with a yawn.

“Oh, not long, about an hour or two.” Anthony shrugged.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Aziraphale asked with a slight yelp.

Anthony wiggled down and pulled Aziraphale in a tight squeeze, “Because you’re adorable, and you talk in your sleep, and I wanted to see what else you would say.” Anthony murmured touching his forehead to Aziraphale’s.

“Oh no, what did I say?” Aziraphale groaned.

Anthony chuckled, “Nothing too embarrassing, just that you love me, no wait I take that back, that is pretty embarrassing.” Anthony teased.

Aziraphale nudged his forehead against Anthony’s, “Oh hush you, it isn’t embarrassing at all. Be glad I just talked in my sleep and not sang it on the rooftops.”

Anthony chuckled again and gave Aziraphale another squeeze, his long arms wrapping around his soft form, “Oh I’d love that.” He murmured against Aziraphale’s curls.

Aziraphale laughed and nuzzled his face into Anthony’s neck, “Well besides my talking, did you sleep without any interruptions?” He asked placing a gentle kiss at the base of Anthony’s throat.

Anthony just hummed as a response, Aziraphale’s kissing distracting him from the speech he had been planning in his head the last two hours, the whole thing slipping from his mind as he felt those heavenly kisses on his neck.

The sunlight was streaming in the plant room through the window wall and it was washing out the night skylight, streaming in through the long vertical blinds, highlighting the gold in Aziraphale’s hair, brightening the little golden hairs along his arms, making his eyes a brilliant shade of blue.

“God you’re beautiful, how did I get so lucky?” Anthony sighed pulling Aziraphale into another tight squeeze.

“I believe that’s the questions I should be asking.” He said as Anthony ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls.

Anthony snorted, “Right, that’s what you think, you haven’t realized what a rotten deal you’re getting.” He gave Aziraphale a little tickle, letting his fingers dance along the gentle swooping curves of his side.

“Foul fiend.” Aziraphale huffed, still smiling, and pulled away from Anthony to keep the tickling at bay.

Anthony laughed as Aziraphale scooted next to him and propped himself up on one elbow, his chin resting in his hand, his blue eyes flickering over Anthony, a grin dancing over his lips.

“Wot is so funny then?” Anthony asked raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, just hadn’t seen you with bed head yet it all, and it is quite fetching.” Aziraphale said swallowing a giggle as he appraised the wayward auburn hair sticking out in all directions.

Anthony raised an eyebrow for a moment before grabbing a small throw pillow and lobbing it at Aziraphale, “Shut up, you’re one to talk, your curls could enter a competition with an unsheared sheep and win.”

Aziraphale ducked the thrown pillow and grabbed one of his own, rolling onto his side as he laughed and hit Anthony with it.

“Oh you’re gonna regret that.” Anthony said with a playful grin on his face scrambling into a pouncing position.

Before Aziraphale could reply with a quip or maneuver out of reach Anthony dove at him his arms outstretched. Wrapping around Aziraphale’s middle pressing a kiss against Aziraphale’s soft belly, and peeked up at him, smiles dancing in his eyes.

“Foul fiend.” Aziraphale repeated, his tone softer, and he raised a hand to weave his fingers through Anthony’s hair gently scratching his scalp as he did.

Anthony felt like purring, Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair were magical, if he kept it up he was going to fall asleep again.

“I love you terribly dear, I don’t think I would ever be able to express how much.” Aziraphale murmured almost quiet enough for Anthony not to hear.

Anthony smiled, “Well we have loads of time, maybe you’ll find a word that fits eventually. All those books in your flat you must have one that might work.” He teased.

Aziraphale hummed to himself, thinking as he continued to run his fingers through Anthony’s hair. His lips pursed and he stopped humming as he thought about the beautiful man laying with him.

He was the only man he had ever felt so strongly for, the only one he had said that he loved, the only one he had been this close to, this physical with. All these years, and now all the love poems, plays, books, they all made sense now. How someone could feel so strongly for another person, how someone could throw everything in their world away for a glimpse of a smile, how someone could find a new strength to do things they were scared to do before.

He wondered vaguely, if Anthony had ever felt this way about another person before, though, he knew that it was none of his business if he had, he already felt inadequate enough compared to Anthony, the scores of lovers he must have had would only make the differences between them even more unbalanced.

“Wot is it angel?” Anthony asked, his voice slightly muffled.

Aziraphale started, “What do you mean? I didn’t say anything.” He objected, feigning innocence.

“You stopped humming, and that usually means something’s popped into your head and that you’re thinking about it deeply, am I right?” Anthony asked looking up at Aziraphale his brows tilted teasingly.

“Well...” Aziraphale trailed off, running his lower lip between his teeth.

Anthony propped himself, up putting one hand on either side of Aziraphale so he could lean close to him, “What is it angel?” He asked gently.

Aziraphale sighed, “Well I was just thinking about how much I care for you, and that you are the first person to be in my life in the ways that you are. And it made me wonder, though it is none of my business, how many, d-did you love before me?” He asked quietly.

Anthony tilted his head curiously, his golden eyes studying Aziraphale’s face. His eyes were downcast, a blush creeping along his cheeks, his nose, making his freckles stand out. He was glowing in such a sweet way it made Anthony’s heart ache.

Anthony leaned forward more and nuzzled Aziraphale’s cheek with his, “None.” He murmured.

Anthony heard Aziraphale’s breath catch and he leaned back to look him in the eyes.

He still had a blush creeping on his face, and his eyes were a bit watery, “A-and after me?” He asked his eyes meeting Anthony’s, thousands of emotions flitting through his gaze.

Anthony’s mouth slid into a slow smile, and he shook his head from side to side in slow miniscule movements, “None.” He replied softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, “Oh,” he said, his voice soft but strong enough to knock Anthony over.

Anthony sat up, sat next to Aziraphale, drawing his knees to his chest, and wrapping his arms around his knees, resting his cheek on his knees and looking at Aziraphale, “Does that surprise you?” He asked with a smile playing across his lips.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “A little, I would assume that you’ve had scores of people falling at your feet, scores of lovers.”

Anthony chuckled, “Well what about you? How many did you love before me?” Anthony asked in a low tone that made shivers go down Aziraphale’s back.

“None of course.” Aziraphale responded with a chuckle wrinkling his nose at Anthony.

“Well now, I would assume that you’ve also had scores of people throwing themselves at you. Scores of men falling into your arms, your bed, and if you haven’t had people falling all over you then they’re all stupid plonkers with no taste.” Anthony waved his arms wide to illustrate how many people he thought would naturally be tripping over themselves to be with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale giggled, “No, never even kissed anyone before you.” He admitted sheepishly with a blush turning the tips of his ears red.

“Well, aren’t I the lucky one.” Anthony said wrapping one arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulling him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Aziraphale giggled and sighed happily leaning his head against Anthony’s pointed shoulder. Anthony squeezed him tight and pressed another kiss to his head, burying it in his curls. They sat there gently swaying side to side together until Anthony’s ears perked up as he heard a noise at his front door, he glanced up at Aziraphale who’s brows were furrowed, he had heard the noise too.

“Let me go see what that is.” Anthony said unfolding himself from the floor and walking to the front door. The cushions on the floor making each step wobbly, he grabbed his sweatpants off the floor and pulled them on quickly and looked through the little peephole, and he felt like ice had immediately been splashed down his neck.

Hans and Laurent were standing outside the door, fumbling with their keys. Anthony took in a sharp breath and opened the door and quickly went out in the hall shutting it behind him.

“What are you two doing here?” He hissed crossing his arms over his chest.

Hans and Laurent looked at each other and grinned, “Now why are you acting all hostile to see us Crawly? Can’t we stop by for a little friendly visit?” Hans asked wickedly, a glint shining in his dark eyes that were peeking from under his messy blonde bangs trying to nudge closer to the door and slip in.

“Yeah, because you two were so friendly last time, what do you want?” Anthony asked trying to contain the fear and rage that was bubbling up inside his chest. He shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, subtly moving closer to the door to block it and to where the back of his head was in front of the peep hole in case Aziraphale got up and looked out of it.

“Seems a bit odd of you to be home on a Monday when you are supposed to be doing the job father gave you at that little bakery.” Laurent’s deep gravelly voice made Anthony’s pulse quicken.

“The bakery is closed today.” Anthony muttered not meeting their eyes.

“Well how would you know that if you’re here?” Laurent asked, one dark eyebrow cocking upward as he made a step closer to the door.

“How d’ya think? The owner called me and told me so he wasn’t going to open today so I wouldn’t waste petrol getting there.” Anthony nearly hissed, getting more frustrated and anxious by the second.

“Tsk, tsk, Crawly, temper, since you don’t have to go into that little crap shop today, why not invite us inside to visit? Have some quality cousin time?” Hans asked glancing at Laurent, a grin worming it’s way onto his face.

“Yeah, it’s been quite a time since we all sat down and had a chat. Unless there’s a reason you don’t want us to come into the flat?” Laurent asked innocently.

Anthony growled, “I don’t have to invite you in if I don’t want to, and I don’t want to. I like having quiet time to myself now and again without you knobheads to ruin it.” He snapped.

“Funny, you say you want some quiet time to yourself, but you seem to have a visitor in there.” Laurent chided tilting his head to the side, a grin sliding on his face.

Hans glanced at Laurent then to Anthony, and a sickeningly happy grin stretched slowly across his face.

“A visitor eh Crawly? Is that why you don’t want to see us? Who do you have in there?” Hans asked taking a step forward and reaching for the doorknob.

“Knock it off.” Anthony said shoving Hans away from the door, keeping his stance in front of it to block Laurent from sneaking inside as he tried to deal with Hans.

“Come come now cousin, we should meet your friend in there, who would be in there with you anyhow?” Laurent asked his brows furrowed.

“I bet I know who it is.” Hans chirped in a sing song voice.

Anthony tried to make his face as neutral as possible, because any indication of emotion would make them definitely barge into his flat and do or say who knows what to Aziraphale.

“I bet it’s that fat pansy baker that you were with at the market.” Hans said, his voice dripping with venom.

“Yes Hans, I have our arch enemy in my flat and I’m about to make him a breakfast frittata.” Anthony deadpanned.

Laurent barked a laugh at Anthony’s response and swiveled his face to Hans.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be a bad approach to get the recipe that dad wants.” Hans mused tapping his chin with his finger.

Anthony’s eyes narrowed at his cousin and he pressed his lips together in a thin line, his arms tightening across his chest.

“Smile at him, wile and beguile him, then he’ll tell you exactly what you need to know. Especially if you can get him in the sack, bet you he’d tell you anything you asked. Especially a bloke like that.” Hans said waving his hand around dismissively.

“What the hell does that mean?” Anthony snapped angrily glaring at Hans.

“Oh, struck a nerve did he?” Laurent asked cocking his head to the side.

“Oh that’s it isn’t it? You’re fucking the baker.” Hans stated as if he had the word of God speaking in his ear and he knew everything.

“Yeah cause that’s something I would do, I’d fuck someone just to get secrets from him and to put our family ahead.” Anthony said sarcastically, inside he was screaming, it took everything he had to not pull at his hair.

“It would be a good way to get a commendation from dad, hell maybe you’d even get your old job back.” Laurent said with a shrug.

“I’d do it, though I dunno if I could do it with that disgusting fat pansy.” Hans said with a laugh elbowing Anthony a little harder than to be just jokingly.

Anthony tried to keep his emotions under control, “Can I get back to bed now? Or did you really have something to tell me that could have been a text message?” he asked trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Right, dad just wanted us to make sure you were still focused on your task, on your part in the Great Plan. Remind you with a permanent reminder if we had to, again.” Laurent said with a grin shrugging.

“Right, bye now.” Anthony said waving his fingers dismissively.

Laurent shrugged again and turned to walk away, grabbing a handful of Hans’ shirt in his hand and tugged him along. Hans kept eye contact with Anthony, and then reluctantly followed Laurent down to the lift.

Anthony waited until he saw them go into the lift with the doors closing behind them before going back into his flat.

He shut the door behind him and locked it quickly and leaned against the closed door, closing his eyes and sighing.

“What was that dear?” Aziraphale asked, his voice close, startling Anthony, making him jump.

Anthony’s eyes bolted open and he looked at Aziraphale, searching his face to see if he there was any indication that he had heard the conversation out in the hallway.

Aziraphale’s face was as bright and golden as always, no hint of suspicion or anger, he had fished his clothes from wherever they had landed in the pile of cushions and blankets and put his sweater from last night back on. His pants, and Anthony’s shirt were neatly folded in a pile.

Anthony chuckled, “Tidying up?” He asked pushing himself away from the door with a smirk.

Aziraphale blushed, “Well I didn’t know what else to do, I would have started to make some breakfast, but I didn’t want to make myself at home without an invitation.” He said shyly.

Anthony tilted his head and then flopped back onto the cushions and blankets on the floor turning on his side and reaching for Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled and he laid down beside Anthony, cuddling himself up to him letting Anthony cradle him and spoon him from behind.

“In case you missed it angel,” Anthony purred in his ear, making shivers go down Aziraphale’s spine.

“In case you missed it, last night was a definite permanent invitation to make yourself at home in this flat. Sleep anywhere you want, eat anything you want, hell start bringing stacks of books here to collect and store. I’ll even buy some bookshelves for you.” Anthony nuzzled his lips to the back of Aziraphale’s neck kissing and nibbling gently.

Aziraphale giggled and wiggled in Anthony’s arms, he felt as if flashes, waves of love were outpouring from Anthony and washing onto him. He smiled and pressed kisses onto Anthony’s arm that was up close to his face.

Aziraphale rolled to face Anthony and kissed his nose, “What should we do today dearest?” He asked him gently.

Anthony thought a moment and then grinned, “I could make us some breakfast, what sounds good?” He asked kissing Aziraphale on the nose, making his eyes crinkle at the edges.

Anthony smiled and then gently placed kisses at the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes, “I love these,” He murmured.

Aziraphale blushed and placed a kiss gently at the corner of Anthony’s mouth.

They lied there holding each other, decorating one another with kisses until they both began to feel the pangs of hunger in their bellies, and by that time Anthony had no patience to cook.

“Let me take you for some breakfast angel, we’ll go get frittatas or something.” Anthony said helping Aziraphale off of the cushioned floor.

“That sounds lovely.” Aziraphale said smiling.

Anthony and Aziraphale got ready and left the flat, Anthony’s slender hand entwining with Aziraphale’s as they walked down the hall, down the lift, and into the Bentley.

“Looks like you were right about the baker.” Laurent muttered to Hans as they sat in the run-down Volkswagen beetle they had driven over. Hans had parked on the other side of the street so that they could wait and see who had been at their cousin’s flat when they had been up to visit.

“How do you think he’s playing it?” Hans asked, his voice sounding like he had swallowed some rocks.

“I dunno, hard to tell, he could be using him for information, cozying up to him to butter him up and get him to spill his guts.” Laurent replied, his voice perplexed.

“I don’t trust him, you think he’d be doing that, but when have you ever known Crawly to be anything but a sensitive little twat? I don’t think he’d have it in him to really do that. I’m betting he is falling for that fatarse, but I wonder if father knows about this?” Hans mused turning to Laurent.

“Reckon we should tell him?” Laurent asked raising an eyebrow.

“Not yet.” Hans said lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag from it, “I believe, we could use this information to our advantage.” He turned to Laurent who grunted in response before starting the car and driving away.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Aziraphale have several talks, serious talks.  
> One in the bandstand at St. James Park.

Chapter 26

Anthony and Aziraphale spent the morning drifting through the day, seemingly without a care in the world. They had gone for brunch at a nearby restaurant, Aziraphale delicately eating a frittata, glancing up frequently to gaze at Anthony. Anthony nursing a tall mimosa and reaching his hand across the table to touch Aziraphale as often as he could. As he watched him eating his brunch Anthony felt a lump in his throat, feeling like a rock, solid in his throat.

This morning had been a close call with Hans and Laurent stopping by, Aziraphale could have easily heard everything that they had said and then he would have been exposed in a way that would have made everything a wretched burning mess. They would have ruined everything, he had a plan, at least the scraps of a plan. He knew that if he worded things a certain way that Aziraphale would understand, would know that he did not do this to hurt him, that he had no choice because his uncle was blackmailing him. Aziraphale could understand shitty uncles more than anyone else could.

Reasoning with himself made him feel even worse and the knots in his stomach and bile climbing his throat was making the mimosa seem like the worst choice for consumption on earth.

“Is everything okay darling?” Aziraphale’s voice fluttered into Anthony’s thoughts as he took another sip of his mimosa.

“What? Oh yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” Anthony answered a bit too quickly.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “Are you certain? You seem a bit, oh, lost in thought.” He asked concerned.

“Yeah, no I’m okay angel, how’s the frittata?” Anthony asked smiling at him.

“Oh, it is divine, I’m so glad you suggested this restaurant, it is so cozy and quaint.” Aziraphale said dabbing his lips with his napkin.

“’m glad you like it. Used to come here as a kid with my mum, surprised the place is still running honestly.” Anthony said his voice wistful, and then sour.

“Yes, it seems the older establishments have almost all been purchased or overrun by the Devilles, except for a handful, so it is good to see this place still standing and operating at a good pace.” Aziraphale said absentmindedly sipping his own mimosa.

Anthony gulped, “Yeah, those Devilles don’t sound like the nicest batch of people.” Anthony stuttered, not sure what to say.

Aziraphale furrowed his brows as he attempted to spear another bite of the frittata, “Well, I’ve never met any of them personally, but their reputation precedes them. I’m sure there is a nice one in the bunch somewhere.” He said grinning as he took another delicate bite.

Anthony’s heart fluttered, the small window of hope he had been waiting for was widening up for him.

“Yeah, can’t all be bad, one of them is bound to be good, yeah?” He asked his voice uptilting

Aziraphale took a swig of his mimosa, “Statistically yes.” He waved his glass toward Anthony, “but the way the patriarch of the family runs the business, and treats the other shop owners in town, I wouldn’t doubt that he raised the rest of the family to be that way.”

“But look how you turned out.” Anthony blurted before he could think.

Aziraphale looked at him surprised, “How I turned out?” He asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Anthony slowed the momentum of his words, “You were raised by, frankly, horrid people, and you turned out wonderful.” Anthony said his voice soft, dropping in volume with nerves.

Aziraphale tilted his head to the side, “I suppose, but I had good influence beforehand with my grandfather.” He said looking up at Anthony.

Anthony nodded his head, “Yeah you’re right there. So, if one of them was exposed to a good influence before staying with the unc-patriarch, they may have a chance of being good, yeah?” Anthony said trying desperately to sound casual as he waved his mimosa glass around as he talked.

“Well, yes. Why are you so interested in the dichotomy of good and evil amidst that family?” Aziraphale asked with a chuckle.

Anthony felt the color drain from his face as he scrambled for an explanation, he could tell him now.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale asked after a few moments of silence.

“Sorry lost in thought, no reason really, just would hate to see this place get taken from under these owners. Or your place get taken from under you.” He reached across the table and placed a hand gently over Aziraphale’s.

“On one hand I would also hate for the bakery to be taken out from under me, at least not in a malicious way, I would not mind selling to start a bookshop as you know, but that way I am in control of how it ends.” Aziraphale said with a smile.

“Makes sense.” Anthony murmured running his thumb along Aziraphale’s hand.

Anthony felt the knot in his stomach turn to lead as the words of admission kept themselves locked away behind his lips. In public could make too much of a scene, he reasoned with himself, it should be something I tell him in private.

Aziraphale smiled at the tenderness in which Anthony was trailing his thumb over his knuckles and sighed happily.

“What else should we do today angel?” Anthony asked gently, his voice low.

“Well, if I don’t open the shop today, I should at least prepare some things for tomorrow.” Aziraphale mused.

“I’m game for that.” Anthony said with a laugh.

Aziraphale smiled and they rose from the table together and then Anthony drove them over to the bakery. Before doing anything downstairs in the kitchen Aziraphale went upstairs to change his clothes since he was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday.

As Aziraphale went up the stairs to his flat Anthony started firing up the ovens and gathering supplies he thought Aziraphale might need. Aziraphale hurried back down the stairs and arrived at the kitchen, where Anthony turned to look at him as he walked into the room. Anthony blushed as a smile spread across his face at just seeing Aziraphale again.

“What?” Aziraphale asked shyly looking down at the sweater he had changed into.

“Nothing angel, you’re just so damn beautiful, it catches me off guard sometimes when I’m not prepared for it.” Anthony admitted rubbing the back of his neck with a hand and grinning sheepishly.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to blush as Anthony quickly crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his wide frame and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Aziraphale returned the hug as well as the kiss on the cheek, and they held each other there in the kitchen for a few moments. Almost getting lost in the quiet room, the warmth from the ovens radiating the area.

The oven dinged indicating that the preheating was done and it snapped them both to reality. They wordlessly unwound from each other and headed to where all the supplies Anthony had gotten together were.

“What should we bake today angel?” Anthony asked grabbing an apron for each of them.

Aziraphale thought as he tied the apron around himself, “How about today we make; coconut chai traybake, lamingtons, and coffee walnut shortbread?” He suggested looking up at Anthony.

“Those all sound heavenly.” Anthony said with a groan, just hearing those pastries made his mouth water.

“Well let’s get started then, if you’d like to start on the traybake and I’ll work on the lamingtons?” Aziraphale asked.

“Sounds good to me.” Anthony said.

Aziraphale brought out his grandfather’s green and gold ancient recipe book and flipped to a page for Anthony to look off as he worked on the traybake and as Aziraphale started on the lamingtons.

They worked in a comfortable silence as they mixed their ingredients together, Anthony kept stealing little glances of Aziraphale and Aziraphale kept humming to himself as he smiled at Anthony when he knew he was peeking at him.

By the time the day had turned to evening they had made two batches of each baked good and were readying them for tomorrow in the display cases.

“Well tomorrow we should just have to open up shop, shouldn’t have to bake much at all, unless we sell out of everything in the first five minutes.” Aziraphale said with a laugh as he shut the display case and double checked the lock on the front door.

“I’ll call up everyone I know to get them to come by in the morning to sell out, then we could close up shop early and go for lunch or dinner, chat awhile.” Anthony grabbing one of Aziraphale’s hands and pulling him closer and placing a kiss on his neck.

“Well, that sounds like a marvelous plan.” Aziraphale sighed wistfully as Anthony began leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his hand and back up.

“Agreed, now, since we are done for the day here, how about after clean up we go and have a stroll in the park?” Anthony asked his tone hopeful, maybe at the park, in a nice intimate setting.

“That sounds lovely.” Aziraphale replied softly.

They locked up the shop and headed to St. James Park, only a fifteen-minute ride in the Bentley. Anthony quickly came around the Bentley and opened the door for Aziraphale and helped him climb out of the car.

“Thank you dearest.” Aziraphale said smiling, lacing his fingers through Anthony’s. Anthony’s mouth pulled upward in a crooked smile and he led Aziraphale to the walking path.

They walked along the path passing the duck pond, passing a cart selling balloons, passing children running around with nannies and parents chasing after them. When they arrived at the cluster of benches, they found that they were all occupied.

“Oh bother.” Aziraphale said with a small pout.

“Here let’s keep going, we’ll find another place to rest.” Anthony said giving Aziraphale’s hand a small tug.

Aziraphale followed in step with Anthony, looking up at him and smiling as the sun rays shined on him, highlighting the redness in his hair, brightened his face, showing the delicate lines at the corners of his eyes. His sunglasses keeping the brightness out but peeking the golden hues of his eyes from the side of the lenses. Aziraphale was still in shock that they were a couple, how this beautiful man with him was with him.

Anthony kept stealing peeks at Aziraphale from the side from behind his glasses, he was beaming up at Anthony, his blue eyes were shining in the light, making them seem even bigger, brighter, and bluer. The sunlight was catching on his blonde curls and making them shine like golden whisps of cloud.

“What’s the smile for?” Anthony asked peeking at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye and grinned.

Aziraphale blushed, and then gave Anthony’s hand a squeeze, “I’m still in shock that we are a couple, how lucky I am that you are with me.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony frowned slightly, “You’ve got that a bit backwards angel, I’m the lucky one.” He said bringing Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss there gently.

“How about we’re both lucky?” Aziraphale suggested, bringing Anthony’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss there.

Anthony blushed a brilliant scarlet and couldn’t help but having a silly smile on his face.

“Oi, I see a spot where we can sit down a bit.” Anthony said his voice uptilting.

Aziraphale followed Anthony’s lead as he took a left on the walking path and followed the trail to a small little gazebo, seemed to have been forgotten by the rest of the park.

“Ah this is a lovely spot.” Anthony said as they sat on the seats of the gazebo, leaning back onto the railing.

“It is quite nice, tucked away from the rest of the park a bit.” Aziraphale observed looking around the gazebo.

Anthony propped his arm up on the back railing and tucked his knee up, making his limbs look a bit less spring loaded than they had been. He took in a breath and sighed deeply, trying to relax and get into the mindset of telling Aziraphale the secrets that had been plaguing him.

Aziraphale smiled at Anthony and scooted closer slightly, Anthony’s eyebrow peaked up and he raised his arm from the back rail of the seating and wrapped it around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulled him closer, tucking him against himself.

Aziraphale smiled into Anthony’s shirt and closed his eyes, He could feel small rays of sun peeking onto his back, warming him, he could feel the slight breeze grazing his face, he could smell Anthony’s cologne, mixing with the smell of nearby flowers, he could faintly hear children laughing as they played, he sighed, happily content with everything in the world at this moment.

Anthony’s tilted his head to lean against Aziraphale’s curls, the hairs tickling his nose, but the softness of his silken locks against his skin made him feel like he was surrounded by clouds that had been spun out of flower petals. He took a deep breath and let out a slow exhale, trying to calm his nerves. He was trying to keep the thoughts of the plan and his family at bay. The less he thought about it the less he could feel guilty about it, as long as his thoughts were consumed with good thoughts, they would cancel out the bad. As long as he thought about Aziraphale he wouldn’t think about his conscious.

“Everything alright dearest?” Aziraphale asked glancing upward at Anthony.

Anthony was startled out of his anxiety inducing thoughts, “Yeah, everything’s alright angel, just, just thinking.” He replied haltingly.

“Something bothering you dear?” Aziraphale asked gently, not wanting to pry, but wanting to help.

Anthony looked down at Aziraphale and ran a hand through his curls debating internally about what he should say. He could tell him, he should tell him, now is as good as a chance as any.

“Well,” He started sitting upright a little more than he had been.

Aziraphale’s curiosity and concern had peaked and he sat up and turned toward Anthony.

Anthony looked at Aziraphale and let his gaze fall to the floor, he didn’t want to look at Aziraphale when he told him, didn’t want to see the pain that would be in his eyes, the betrayal. But he had to tell him.

He glanced up at Aziraphale, who was looking at him earnestly, his eyes brimming with concern, and that felt like a knife twisting in Anthony’s stomach. He let his gaze fall back to the floor so he wouldn’t have to look at him yet.

“Is, is everything alright, between us?” Aziraphale asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“What? No, no, I mean yes, yes everything is fantastic between us, I meant no that what’s on my mind isn’t about us, well it is, but it’s not a bad thing, but it could be, but it all depends on what happens when I tell you…” Anthony stuttered, and tongue tied himself as he swung his gaze back to Aziraphale reaching for his hand.

“Well, that sounded quite reassuring.” Aziraphale said with a stilted laugh.

Anthony gulped, and he ran his thumb along Aziraphale’s knuckles.

“You know, you’re better than anyone, anything I could ever have wished for in life?” Anthony asked him a small smile breaking the hard line of his lips.

Aziraphale smiled, he felt that the air had grown heavy in the gazebo, that a weighted blanket had been wrapped around the two of them. Anthony’s face had gone pale and he was licking his lips repeatedly.

“A-are you alright dear? Do you need to use your calming apps on your mobile?” Aziraphale asked concerned.

Anthony chuckled a little, it sounded strained in his throat.

“No, no it’s alright. I just…” Anthony trailed off and looked at Aziraphale.

“Just what dear?” Aziraphale asked, his tone painted with worry.

“I-I just n-need to tell you s-something.” Anthony said choking on the words.

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, “Anthony, you’re starting to worry me, what is going on dear? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Can I help in any way? You can tell me anything, I hope you know that dear.” Aziraphale fretted.

Anthony pressed his lips into a line and held Aziraphale’s hand tighter, “I just, I need to tell you.”

He slid a bit off the seating of the gazebo and kneeled in front of Aziraphale, still holding his hand in his. He needed grounding, the floor would ground him, the floor and Aziraphale would ground him.

took a slow deep inhale to calm his nerves a bit, and he tried to smile at Aziraphale, but started feeling shaky, and the knot in his stomach was climbing up his esophagus and vocal cords choking him in his guilt.

His mind was swirling around him making him feel like he was drowning under the burden of his admission. The battle between the drowning and the choking was suffocating him and making his words stick in his throat. He needed to tell him, he needed to tell him everything, tell him everything and see what he would say. See if he would forgive him, see if he would still love him.

Anthony licked his lips and managed a painful smile that may have seemed more like a shudder and he looked up at Aziraphale.

“I just, wanted to tell you, had to tell you, that, that,” Anthony got choked up with his words and took a deep inhale and a deep exhale and repeated that until the knot in his throat descended a little bit.

“Sorry angel, I’m just getting emotional, I just wanted, needed to tell you,” He paused and looked up at Aziraphale and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and bared the sunlight in his eyes to look at Aziraphale in all his beautiful shining light, the pureness of his soul shining through him.

He felt his throat closing and he cleared his throat.

“I just need to tell you,” His eyes locked with Aziraphale’s, and he let himself be immersed in his blue eyes, let himself drown in them, be overcome with the warmth of his gaze, of his love.

“I just need to tell you,” He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand with both of his, felt the plushness of his soft hands, felt the indentations of is dimpled knuckles, felt the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I just need to tell you, that, I love you more than I could have ever thought I could love someone. It hurts how much that I love you, and I ache every time I see you because I am consumed in a love so powerful. I didn’t know love could be like this, I never knew I could feel this way about anyone and I just, wanted you to know that. Needed you to know that.”

The words fell from his mouth in a bittersweet taste, he spoke nothing but the truth to Aziraphale, but he also knew that it wasn’t the entire truth that he could be telling, that he should be telling.

“Well, thank you dearest, that is very sweet, and very kind. It seemed though, that there was more you wanted to say?” Aziraphale asked, his voice lingering.

Anthony shook his head quickly from side to side, he was a coward, he couldn’t do it yet. He was an absolute piece of shit coward.

“Not right now, maybe another day, maybe next time I’m down on my knees in front of you I’ll have something to ask you, something to slip onto your pretty finger.” He said his voice coated with a dreamy tone.

Aziraphale blushed and a giggle escaped his lips, “I honestly was thinking you were doing something like that now with how you were acting.”

Anthony grinned and shook his head, rising off of his knees and stretching, “Oh, do there’s an ice cream cart, do you want to get some ice cream while they’re nearby? We can start heading back to the bakery, or anywhere you’d like angel.” Anthony said.

Aziraphale turned and followed Anthony’s gaze to the small ice cream cart that was circling the gazebo, “That sounds wonderful.”

He rose and entwined his hand with Anthony’s, and they headed to the ice cream cart, getting a cherry lolly and a vanilla cone with a flake of cinnamon.

As they ate their ice cream they walked hand in hand towards the area of the park where the Bentley was waiting for them. As they walked Anthony glanced at Aziraphale, smiling as his tongue licked the side of the ice cream resting on top of the cone.

He smiled at Aziraphale, as he felt an ache in his chest, he couldn’t get the words out today, but he needed to tell him everything.

But, now wasn’t the time, not yet.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale bake and are domestic, and then cruel irony both of their uncles give them a call, and Crowley's cousins show up at the bakery.  
> Then angst.

For the next week they fell into a gentle pattern, spending the night together either at Anthony’s flat or Aziraphale’s. Then if they stayed at Anthony’s they would have breakfast and then go to the bakery and open the shop together, selling whatever baked goods they had made that morning or the night before. If they stayed at Aziraphale’s that just meant a longer time to stretch out the morning cuddles before having to go downstairs. After a day of selling pastries and breads one of them would offer to buy dinner for the other and they would go out to eat then spend the evening lost in each other, tangled together in kisses, embraces, limbs wrapped around each other, hands and lips exploring every part of one another.

Aziraphale had not talked with his family since the dinner almost two weeks ago, he didn’t expect to, the only reason he could fathom any of them calling would be to find out what he decided to make for the baking competition, which he was still planning on his grandfather’s original apple pie recipe, no matter what his family had said about it being too traditional and too predictable. He would go without talking to them as long as he could, but he was running low on produce and he would need to see them soon. Which that didn’t necessarily mean he needed to talk to any of them.

None of Anthony’s cousins had made an appearance since that morning at his flat. He hadn’t heard from his cousins or uncle on the phone either, which was making him jumpy and nervous. He would insist on doing sweeps in his flat before Aziraphale stepped foot inside, he was always peeking around corners trying not to be noticed, he flinched and jumped at every loud noise. He slept lightly and was unable to get a full night’s sleep. All of these things Aziraphale noticed, it was getting harder and harder to make excuses for his added anxiousness. After he flinched at the overhead bell for the fifth time that morning Aziraphale’s concern grew.

“Dearest, why don’t you take a break in the back? Or go upstairs to the flat and have a rest? I can handle the customers myself, it’s no trouble.” Aziraphale said, not so much as suggesting it but insisting on it.

“Oh Angel, I’m alright, just a bit jumpy, need to get an increase in my meds or something.” Anthony said trying to brush off Aziraphale’s concern.

“Anthony.” Aziraphale said firmly.

Anthony looked up at him surprised, he was never just Anthony with Aziraphale, he was always Dearest, or Dear or floods of other endearments for Anthony to blush and stumble over.

Aziraphale’s eyes were full of concern, but the set of his jaw was with determination and stubbornness.

“I insist that you go up to the flat this moment and rest. Rest in any way you like, but rest nonetheless. I will continue to run the shop and handle the customers down here for the rest of the day, but I absolutely insist.” Aziraphale jutted his chin out and held a hand out for Anthony to place his apron in.

Anthony’s brain would have scrambled for an argument, but he was so frazzled and tired he was unable to think of anything.

With a defeated sigh he untied his apron and handed to Aziraphale, “You’re right, I’m a mess and if anything I’m just a pain in the arse down here. I’ll go upstairs, but if you need any help with anything, you call me yeah?”

Aziraphale tittered, “I’ll call you dearest, but you focus on resting, once things are dying down I’ll come upstairs and join you.”

Anthony nodded and turned and pushed through the door separating the front of the shop from the kitchen and he went upstairs.

Anthony wordlessly opened the door to the flat and stood there in the entrance for a moment before going to the bedroom and pulling his shoes off and then crawling under the covers. He placed his cell phone on the bedside table and wrapped himself into a cocoon.

Downstairs Aziraphale was greeting the customers and working on selling the pastries and breads that they had made that morning. Anthony had come up with the idea to sell bundles of brioche rolls in the shape of stars and they were selling well.

“Mr. Aziraphale, do you happen to have anymore of that peppermint chocolate bark that you had a couple days ago?” Mrs. Willoughby asked balancing her small toddler on her hip.

“Ah unfortunately no, but we do have some fresh chocolate peppermint cookies, if that would be a good substitute?” Aziraphale asked smiling at the child.

“That would be splendid.” She replied.

“How is work going Mrs. Willoughby? You did get my payment in the mail?” Aziraphale asked bagging up several cookies for Mrs. Willoughby and her daughter.

“On time as always, I swear if all of my customers paid on the dot like you did I wouldn’t have to worry about making my rent payments.” She said with a forced laugh taking some money out of her wallet.

“Well I’m sorry to hear not everyone is as prompt.” Aziraphale handed her the cookie bag and then gave an extra cookie to her daughter.

Mrs. Willoughby smiled and hitched her daughter higher up on her hip, “Well lovely to see you as always Mr. Aziraphale, thank you, and have a lovely day.” She said giving him a slight nod and turning around to walk out of the shop.

Aziraphale smiled after her and watched as she left there were a couple men on the sidewalk heading toward the front door that brushed past her, shooting her a rueful look before coming in.

Aziraphale turned his attention to the next customer in line as he eyed the new patrons from the corner of his eye, one man was rather tall with a shock of white-blonde hair that hung in his face, he was wearing gray fingerless gloves and a long tan jacket, everything looked like it was coated in a film of dirt. The other man was darker complected with dark curly hair and wearing an olive-green jacket and dark trousers.

The two men walked in and looked around the store front, the blonde one jerked his head to the side and the dark complected one nodded.

They approached the display case and looked at the different items under it, the blonde one sneering at a few different cookies and breads, the other one raised an eyebrow at the pies on display.

“Gentleman, can I assist you in any way? Would you like to sample anything?” Aziraphale asked as he finished with the customer he was assisting.

“What kind of pie are these?” The blonde one asked jabbing a finger at the pie display.

“Oh well there’s rhubarb, peach, blackberry, banoffee, and there is a slice left of apple. Is there a particular flavor you’d like? I could take your order and make it for you and have it ready for tomorrow.” He smiled wanting to seem welcoming to the new patrons.

“I hear you have an award-winning pie of some kind?” The one with dark hair said in a gravelly voice.

“Oh yes, the last several years at the Cake and Bake Competition, I use an old family recipe and make apple pie.” Aziraphale explained.

“Is that this pie here?” The blonde one asked jabbing a thumb at the solitary piece of apple pie that was left.

“No that’s from a different recipe.”

The pair exchanged a look and then the blonde one turned to face Aziraphale and said sharply, “We want the award-winning pie. We hear everyone in town boasting and raving about it, you should have it available for people to try.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t generally make that pie for customers willy nilly, only for special occasions like the week of the competition.”

The blonde one growled slightly under his breath, “Why don’t you bloody make one then?” He growled.

Aziraphale hesitated a moment, “I’m sorry, it takes a while to make, I can’t just whip one up with barely any notice.”

“I’m giving you notice now, that’s what I want, and I want it in the morning.” The blonde man growled at Aziraphale.

“Could I maybe interest you in a different type of treat? I have cookies and tarts available right now as well, also some breads.” Aziraphale gestured to the other side of the display case trying not to look nervous.

The pair looked at each other, the dark haired one muttering to his blonde counterpart, “That wasn’t exactly craftsmanship,” and then looked at Aziraphale and said, “I’ll take some cookies.” with a shrug, accompanied by a sharp look from the blonde man.

Aziraphale nodded and grabbed a bag and the tongs so he could get the order prepared. As he prepared and rang up the order a group of several people filled the store front.

“Seems like a busy place you have here.” The blonde said appraising the crowd his malicious tone gone, now seemingly more forcibly conversational.

“It can be sometimes, there are days when I don’t get any customers, it just depends on the people, and sometimes the weather.” Aziraphale said with a forced chuckle, the blonde man was making him uneasy.

“And it’s just you working here? How do you do it?” The dark-haired man asked curiously.

“Oh, well I do have someone else working here with me, but he isn’t feeling well today so I sent him to rest.” Aziraphale said offhandedly with a shrug, taking the money from the man for his cookies.

“Oi, must be the boss’ favorite if he gets to go and rest instead of working through the pain.” The dark-haired man chuckled.

Aziraphale giggled, “Well I suppose he is the boss’ favorite.”

The dark-haired one shared a look with the blonde one and grinned voraciously.

“Well it’s hard to find good help these days, hopefully he does good work.” The blonde said in such a strained voice Aziraphale wondered if he was holding back vomit.

“He does, he’s quite spectacular in every area that he’s worked in, would you two like anything else?” Aziraphale glanced up at the crowd forming behind the pair.

The blonde one grunted and walked away, over to one of the little tables by the window, the dark-haired one shook his head and walked away to join the other man at the table.

Upstairs Anthony woke with a start from the fitful sleep he had fallen into with his cell phone ringing, he unfurled himself from the blanket cocoon and grabbed the phone, grimacing as he saw his uncle’s number on the screen. He took a deep breath and answered it, “Hullo?”

“Crawly, nephew, I’ve been trying to reach you, how is everything going?” His uncle asked in a chipper voice.

“Er, going well.” Anthony replied his voice painted with confusion.

“Excellent, Hans and Laurent have told me your approach, and I must say, that tactic from you is surprising, spectacular actually.” His uncle sounded impressed; Anthony was wracking his brain to figure out what in the bloody hell he was talking about.

“So have you actually fucked the baker or are you stringing him along long enough to make him think you actually care about him before you milk the recipe from him?” Stan asked casually, his voice dripping with glee.

Anthony felt ice down his spine, “They told you that I was planning on seducing the baker to get the recipe?” He asked, each word enunciated slowly.

“Yes, they told me how he was at your place last week and that you’ve both been frequenting each other’s flats. They said how surprised they were at the approach especially from you, you’ve always been a sensitive little whelp. I was just as surprised hearing that your plan was just to fuck him until you got what you wanted. Pretty malicious for you, I’m impressed.” His uncle said nonchalantly.

Anthony opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, like a guppy, shocked into silence, but knowing if he didn’t agree with that assumption that his uncle, or his cousins, would be sure to use Aziraphale against him.

“Yeah, I was pretty proud of it, I am pretty proud of it. I have fucked him, but I’m also trying to make him think I care about him. He has a recipe book from his grandfather that has even more secret recipes in it from further back, probably even from Goderyc Eden, that would probably win us every competition we entered.” Anthony felt like his mouth was full of sawdust and blood as he spat out that lie. He couldn’t get it out of his mouth fast enough, but he knew the delivery would have to sound convincing. He brought out his cockiest voice and tried to think of something that wouldn’t make him vomit, pass out, or have an anxiety attack.

“Wonderful! Anthony that is marvelous to hear. Just don’t forget that the contest is nearing, and we need to finish the sabotage, wrap up the great plan for the war. Besides, you’ve been working undercover so long, we miss you at the café.” His uncle said this in the warmest tone Anthony had ever heard him use in his life.

“Yeah, er, miss you guys too.” Anthony muttered.

“Now keep going with your plan, just keep us updated on the progress.” His uncle said and then without a dismissal hung up the phone.

Anthony looked at his cell phone in disgust, and then in a fit of anger threw it across the room at the wall and threw himself into a pillow and screamed until his voice went out.

He brought in a jagged breath and sat up in the bed and ran his hands down his face wiping the tears away that had escaped from his eyes.

He needed to tell Aziraphale, fuck it, he needs to tell him today.

He stood up and dragged himself over to where his phone was, the screen was now cracked but the phone was still functional. Anthony grabbed his shoes and pulled them on and went back downstairs.

When he went through the swinging door Aziraphale was handing a bag to a customer in line so his back was to him, but Anthony’s eyes swept the shop and locked on Hans and Laurent sitting at a table by the window. Anthony gritted his teeth and snatched his apron off the hook Aziraphale had hung it on earlier.

“Hello dearest, were you able to get some rest?” Aziraphale asked after the customer he was assisting walked away and before he started helping the other.

Anthony sighed, “a little, but had a, bad dream and it woke me up.”

Aziraphale frowned and glanced up at the line then turned back to Anthony, “Once the place clears we can close up so you can get some proper rest, I’ll keep the bad dreams away.” He said with a blush spreading across his face making his freckles stand out.

Anthony gave a small smile, “Sounds like a plan, um I’m gonna go flip the sign and lock the door so no one else can come in. Maybe shoo away anyone lingering in here.” He grabbed a towel and the keys to the door and walked across the storefront.

Anthony eyed Hans and Laurent as he walked toward the front door, they were both giving him shit-eating grins and glancing between him and Aziraphale. He gritted his teeth to keep from unleashing a string of curses on them.

He locked the door and wiped the empty tables clear of imaginary crumbs before making his way to his cousins.

“What in the fuck are you two doing here?” He hissed at them quietly as he wiped their table.

“Wot? We can’t come and see you at work?” Laurent asked innocently.

“Bugger off.” Anthony snarled.

“Temper, temper. We just wanted to check in and see how things were going, but you weren’t here, so we had a nice little chat with the baker. Seems just about as thick as the village idiot, doesn’t seem to be onto you at all.” Hans rumbled.

Anthony’s jaw clenched and he rolled his head to the side, he couldn’t explode on his cousins here, Aziraphale would ask questions, and they may say something to him, tell him why he had really began working here.

“Told dad about the con you have going, he was pretty impressed, but I wager you’re hiding something from us. Just like you are hiding something from the baker.” Laurent said studying Anthony’s face, watching for any imperceptible movements.

“Like what?” Anthony enunciated in a hiss.

“Like you’re in love with him, you aren’t the type to fuck someone to get what you want, you’re the type to be stupid enough to fall in love, especially with someone who is supposed to be the enemy, on the opposite side.” Hans snapped his voice low.

Anthony inhaled slowly, trying to keep any and all emotion off his face. He looked them in the face and snarled, “Do you really think that I, who have been seeking and begging for love and approval from my family since I was a child, since my mother died slowly and painfully in front of me, since she told me through sobs that I would be in your house now and not mine, do you really think I would do something as idiotic as fall in love with someone who has been my sworn enemy since our whatever great grandfather was betrayed by his whatever great grandfather? You two are idiots, it’s all part of the con, part of the Great Plan, part of the war, you have to be tactical, you have to be smart, and you have to know how to play your enemy. Which you two have no idea how to do, all you two know is intimidation and brutality, not stealth and cunning. Now get the fuck out of my way while I finish what I came here to do.”

A high pitch trilling filled the shop and Anthony spun around, Aziraphale sheepishly finished helping the customer he was with and then answered his cell phone.

Aziraphale gestured for the next customer to wait a moment and he went past the swinging door to answer his uncle’s call.

“Hello uncle.” He said primly, he didn’t want to give away any sort of feelings he may be having about his call.

“Aziraphale, I haven’t gotten a report from you in quite some time.” Gabriel said with a faux cheery voice.

“No I suppose you haven’t, there hasn’t been anything to report, sales are roughly the same.” Aziraphale said nonchalantly.

“Excellent, Uriel had noticed that you haven’t come in for a restock in quite some time either, are you running short on produce?” Gabriel asked, his voice full of conspicuity.

“Yes, I have enough to last a bit longer though. So once I absolutely need something I will come and restock.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, his uncle never called about his restocking before.

“Well good, I’ll plan on seeing you soon then. Michaela also brought something to my attention that I think we should talk about. Were you aware that she has been working on our advertising part of the business as well as making sure the workers are doing their job?” Gabriel asked.

“No, I was unaware of this, but I don’t have the time for this conversation at the moment, I have several customers waiting on my return.” Aziraphale said cutting whatever monologue his uncle was about to start short.

“Of course, of course, well I’ll plan on seeing you soon then.” His uncle said, then hung up the phone without a goodbye.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and shut his flip phone and then slid it into his pocket.

After Aziraphale had gone through the swinging door Anthony rounded on his cousins, “Get out of here.” He jutted his chin out defiantly.

Hans and Laurent shared a look and then laughed, “Trying to be all tough won’t save your skin Crawly, and not the skin of your fat stupid baker either.” Hans spat out.

Anthony saw red immediately and his hand shot out and wrapped around Hans’ shirt collar and he pulled him close to his face and he hissed, “Stay out of it. None of it is your concern. And if I ever hear you talk about him like that again I will personally rip your tongue out and nail it to the wall. Now get out.” He pulled his cousin up from his seated position and shoved him toward the exit door.

Hans stood there and glowered at Anthony his eyes looking around the room and Anthony could see the cogs spinning in his head debating on whether or not he should beat the shit out of Anthony.

Laurent caught Hans’ eye and shook his head no before saying, “Not worth the trouble, not here, not in front of all these people.”

Anthony’s gaze reared onto Laurent, “I mean it, both of you. Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He ordered with a snarl.

Laurent raised his hands in a defensive casual stance as he rose from his chair and went to the door, grabbing Hans by the scruff of his neck as he did so.

“Let’s go Hans. Crawly, we’re watching, don’t forget.” Laurent said his voice light but full of venom.

“Better keep that fat little baker of yours safe while you can.” Hans growled as he turned and followed Laurent out the door.

Anthony’s eyes swept the bakery, thankfully none of the customers were paying him a shred of attention, and Aziraphale hadn’t emerged from the swinging door yet. He heaved a great sigh and went behind the counter to finish assisting the customers that were still in the shop.

By the time Aziraphale came back out Anthony was sending off the last customer with the last of the scones.

“Right, last one out the door, now we can close up, and you can get some sleep.” Aziraphale said assessing the room and double checking the front door to make sure it was locked.

“Do let’s.” Anthony said with a wavering grin.

They cleaned up and closed up the store front and then made their way back up to Aziraphale’s flat.

“Would you like some cocoa dearest?” Aziraphale asked as Anthony shut and locked the door behind them.

“Sure, you make it and I’ll get the bedroom sorted out. I kind of left it a mess.” Anthony rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Aziraphale smiled and reached up kissing Anthony on the cheek, “Sounds lovely.”

Anthony smiled gently and as Aziraphale went into the kitchen to prepare some cocoa he went to the bedroom to straighten it up. He groaned seeing all the bedding on the floor and decided to change the sheets instead of detangling them. He chucked the sheets into the dirty clothes bin and grabbed a new set of bedding from the bottom drawer of the dresser. He laughed as he realized that the rest of the options were all different color schemes of tartan.

He grabbed the least obnoxious one and made the bed, propping and fluffing the pillows up, straightening the items on the bedside tables and picking up the clutter on the floor.

The cleaning helped him clear his head, helped him organize his thoughts. As he stacked the books and papers in the bedroom he was sorting and filing the feelings scrambling in his mind. He made sure all the books and papers were away from the lamp and flipped it on the warm glow from the antique was enough of a glow to light the room dimly. He pulled his sunglasses off and folded them up placing them on top pf the dresser.

He made his way to the living room where Aziraphale was just stepping out of the kitchen with matching cups and saucers in each hand, Anthony grabbed one from him as he walked past and sitting on the couch, earning a smile from Aziraphale.

“I’ve got the bedroom already for once we are… ready that is.” Anthony said, his voice dripping with exhaustion. 

“We can get all cozy and hopefully then you can get some rest. Is there anything I could do to assist in you resting Dearest?” Aziraphale sipped at his cocoa as he shifted his weight on the cushion.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale, “Just lay with me, that should do it.”

Aziraphale smiled and rested a hand on Anthony’s knee, “I can most definitely do that.” He said warmly.

Anthony’s mouth ticked upward in the corner and he took a sip of the cocoa, swallowing the half melted mini marshmallows that were floating on top.

“This is so good angel, what do you do to it to make it taste so good? It’s like I’m swallowing a hug.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, “Old family recipe, half milk, half cream, maple syrup, cacao powder, chocolate chips, vanilla extract, sugar, cayenne pepper, and a pinch of salt, you wouldn’t think all those would make a good hot chocolate, but it works, tastes even better when there’s some peppermint schnapps mixed in.”

“Cayenne pepper?” Anthony asked taking another sip of the cocoa trying to detect the pepper.

“Just enough to give it a little kick.” Aziraphale held his fingers up indicating a tiny amount of cayenne pepper.

“Full of surprises, always are.” Anthony murmured leaning over and giving Aziraphale a kiss on the temple.

Aziraphale smiled, smitten, and leaned against Anthony’s side as they finished their cups of cocoa.

“How are you feeling dear? Are you ready to rest?” Aziraphale asked looking up at Anthony from his spot nestled on his shoulder.

“Definitely ready to lay down with you and try to rest.” Anthony sighed wrapping an arm around Aziraphale and squeezing him close to himself.

“Well let’s get a wiggle on and head into the other room.” Aziraphale giggled.

Anthony unwound his arm from Aziraphale’s shoulders and stood up from the couch, offering a hand to Aziraphale to help him stand. Aziraphale slipped his hand into Anthony’s and rose from the couch and they walked hand in hand to the bedroom.

“Go ahead and get comfortable dear,” Aziraphale said nodding to the bed.

Anthony pulled his shoes off and started unbuttoning his pants, then glanced up to Aziraphale, “Is, is it okay if I take these off?” he asked.

Aziraphale blushed, “I don’t mind.”

Anthony gave Aziraphale a half-hearted wink and undid his tight pants and slid them down his long legs and tossed his pants and shoes in the corner, leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt.

Aziraphale’s eyes were wide as he slowly looked Anthony up from his bare ankles up to his face, “You’re so beautiful darling.” His blush deepening on his face, he wanted to reach out and touch Anthony, cherish the warmth of him, but he knew he needed rest and he didn’t want to be the reason he didn’t get any.

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Now if I recall correctly you said you would lie down with me, help me sleep, so you need to get comfortable too.” He said with a smirk playing across his lips as he sat on the foot of the bed, leaning back and crossing one ankle over his knee.

Aziraphale swatted at Anthony with a laugh, but then he also removed his shoes and trousers, he fingered the material of his sweater.

Anthony gulped, “Do you, do you need some help there angel?” Anthony stuttered, his eyes wide, wanting to reach out and touch Aziraphale, let his fingers get lost in the sensations of him.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know if that would help you rest darling.”

Anthony chuckled, “Right, probably not, but the offer still stands.” He said his hands up, his fingers rubbing together, barely keeping restrained.

Aziraphale laughed, “I’ll help you, you help me, then we rest, deal?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

Anthony nodded, his voice box vicing, he shouldn’t be doing this, he should be telling Aziraphale everything, should be spilling his guts, not getting further and further into it.

The way Aziraphale was standing in front of him, the way he was looking at him with those piercing blue eyes, he couldn’t ruin the hopeful look on his face, and as selfish as it seemed, he didn’t want to ruin this moment with him, it could be the last one he had.

Anthony reached forward and tugged at the bottom of Aziraphale’s sweater, tugged it closer to him. Aziraphale stepped closer to Anthony, and Anthony rose from his seat on the bed, and as he rose he lifted the sweater up over Aziraphale’s head and tossed it somewhere into the abyss of the bedroom. Anthony’s eyes locked with Aziraphale’s as he raised his hands up, and let his fingertips paint the curvature of Aziraphale’s plump cheeks, his hand swooping to Aziraphale’s mouth, and with the pad of his thumb Anthony traced the cupid’s bow on the upper lip, and then dragged his thumb down Aziraphale’s bottom lip, pulling it downward slightly. Aziraphale inhaling sharply at the delicate touch.

Anthony felt his heart twisting in a dance of pain and adoration as looked at Aziraphale, he wanted to just run away with him, away from all the pain their families caused them. Anthony had to get the thoughts out of his head. He gulped and focused on the sensation of Aziraphale’s soft skin beneath his. His fingertips traced downward over his heart, even the gentle touch there he could feel Aziraphale’s heart thudding in his chest. Anthony trailed his touch downward, caressing the swooping curves and rolls that decorated Aziraphale’s sides, gently touching letting his fingers spread and his hands mold as he ran his hands along Aziraphale’s soft large belly, his hands caressing gently, delicately. Anthony bit his lower lip, and he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him close to him until he was sinking into his glorious cloudlike essence, and he hungrily pressed a kiss against Aziraphale’s lips.

Aziraphale moaned slightly as Anthony pulled him closer, pressing him against himself, his arms like an anchor, locking himself to Aziraphale like a ship lost at sea.

Aziraphale’s hands twitched and he couldn’t help himself anymore and he reached up and pulled Anthony closer to him, his fingers twisting into Anthony’s hair, the red locks twirling around his thick fingers. Anthony grunted as Aziraphale held him closer, he was losing himself in the contact of their flesh.

Aziraphale broke the kiss and let his hands dance at the hem of the bottom of Anthony’s shirt, gently tugging at it with a pout before pulling it upward, as he delighted in the sights it revealed. The dip of Anthony’s hip, half hidden by his boxers, the delicate skin stretched over his ribs and breastbone, the hallow of his collar bone. Aziraphale’s fingers trailed over the fragile elegant skin that knitted Anthony together at the seams. Aziraphale wanted to adorn Anthony with kisses along every inch of his lithe frame. When his fingers reached Anthony’s face, Aziraphale cradled him in his hands, letting the softness of his hands mold to the high cheekbones and angularity of Anthony’s face.

Wordlessly Anthony slowly leaned backwards until he was sitting back on the foot of the bed again, and slid towards the head of it, trying to not look like he was a crab with broken legs, his gaze hungry, waiting for Aziraphale to join him. Aziraphale hesitated only a moment, not sure of the elegance that he would be able to pull off with the maneuver of joining Anthony at the head of the bed.

Anthony noticed his hesitation, “Angel, everything okay?” he asked his eyes searching Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale felt a blush spreading across his face and down his neck, “Yes, I just, I’m afraid I won’t be, er elegant or appealing if I join you by crawling up the bed.” Aziraphale admitted breaking Anthony’s gaze.

Anthony promptly flew from the head of the bed and back to where Aziraphale was standing and wrapped his arms around him, his hands knotting together at the small of Aziraphale’s back,

“Angel, you don’t have to get on the bed that way if you feel uncomfortable, in fact we can just start on the edge and get there in the middle of our throws of passion. But I promise, you are the most elegant,” he paused and kissed Aziraphale on the throat.

“appealing,” he kissed the edge of Aziraphale’s jaw, “delectable,” he nipped at Aziraphale’s earlobe, “delicious,” he kissed Aziraphale’s cheek, “most remarkable man, I have ever met.” Anthony planted the last kiss at the corner of Aziraphale’s lips and they were lost.

They collapsed onto the bed, Anthony crushing his lips against Aziraphale’s urgently, wrapping his arms around him like a boa constrictor, wanting to hold onto him forever. Aziraphale felt the desperation behind Anthony’s kisses and he tried to hold him close in reassurance, gripping him tightly against himself, “I’m here Anthony.” He whispered in a pant into Anthony’s ear as Anthony left a trail of kisses and bites down Aziraphale’s neck.

Anthony’s soul nearly dissolved when Aziraphale uttered those words, he felt tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and he shut them tightly grabbing Aziraphale in a tight embrace.

Aziraphale pulled Anthony as close as tight as he could as their bodies molded together, twisting, and twining on the bed, clinging to each other in an unspoken hungry desperation. Aziraphale trying to match every ounce of despondency from Anthony with complete love and comfort.

Anthony’s desperation and guilt were getting buried further and further down, he was being overcome with all that was Aziraphale, the soft skin, the sweet kisses, the gentle arching swoops, the curls of gold, the firm yet soft press of his lips, his hands. He let Aziraphale’s essence blanket him, cover him, hide him, until they were laying there together, at the end, his back pressed against Aziraphale’s chest, with Aziraphale’s soft arms wrapped tightly around him, his lips pressing gentle kisses at the nape of Anthony’s neck and back of his shoulders.

“I love you.” Aziraphale murmured again and again after each kiss he pressed upon Anthony’s flesh.

Anthony wrapped his arms over Aziraphale’s and squeezed them, he turned and placed a kiss on Aziraphale’s plump cheek.

“I love you Aziraphale, so much, it’s hard to put it into words.” He choked out, trying to suppress the tears that were threatening to spill again.

“I know, because I feel the exact same way about you.” Aziraphale murmured pressing a kiss to the nape of Anthony’s neck again making him shiver.

“I know, that I’ll always love you, but if you happen to stop loving me one day,” Anthony paused biting his lower lip and clenching his eyes shut not wanting to sob.

“I would never regret this, regret you. I love you completely.” Anthony said quickly trying to get everything out before he exploded, or imploded, he wasn’t sure which was going to happen.

“That day will never come Anthony.” Aziraphale hummed his lips pressing against Anthony’s skin again, wrapping his arms tighter around Anthony.

Anthony gripped Aziraphale’s wrist and hand tightly, they lied there in that embrace for several beats of silence, until Anthony stopped biting his lips and the words slipped out, “Angel, there’s something important I need to tell you and It could ruin everything. Could make you hate me, could make you stop loving me.” Anthony reeled off in such quick succession he didn’t think he had actually said them. But the aching in his chest proved that he did.

Anthony waited for a moment, Aziraphale hadn’t responded, but his arms wrapped around him were loosened, Anthony took in a deep breath, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been keeping something important from you. And It’s been killing me the entire time, but I need to tell you now.”

He wanted to pause catch his breath, but he was afraid if he stopped talking he wouldn’t be able to finish what he had to say. He needed to confess everything, and then repent in any way that Aziraphale would deem worthy.

“I’m the nephew of Stanley Deville, the one that owns Lucy’s Café, and he sent me here to find out what you’re making for the competition, he wanted me to sabotage you, wanted me to steal the recipe. He wanted me to regain our family’s honor or some other bullshit. He’s been blackmailing me and threatening me and having my cousins beat me and chop and rip off my hair, hurt my plants, this entire time to make sure I’m doing it. I should have dealt with the consequences and found a bridge to live under with how shitty I feel.”

Anthony inhaled sharply, barely keeping the tears and sobs from breaking, but he didn’t want to stop until it was all out in case he couldn’t get the words out again, “I’m so sorry angel, this, none of this, was faked, or used to gain anything. I truly love you, truly adore you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life, going to the ends of the earth to let you know I would do anything to take this back, to beg you, forever to forgive me. I would do anything, because I love you, so deeply, so much, it’s in my bones that I was made for you, that you’re what my heart has looked for in this world to feel like I am whole, that I am home. I’m so sorry.” Anthony dissolved into tears once all the words were out, his shoulders shuddering, and his breaths ragged.

Aziraphale was silent, and Anthony was afraid of his reaction, afraid of what his face would look like now that he heard the truth, afraid that when he looked at him again there would be no love in his eyes, in his heart for him, only hurt and betrayal.

After several beats of silence Anthony couldn’t bear the deafening noise of it and he turned around to look at Aziraphale, readying himself to see the recoiling of disgust on his face, readying himself to have Aziraphale throw him out, to denounce him as his love.

Anthony slowly turned to look at Aziraphale, and he felt his heart fall from his chest like a pierced bubble, felt his stomach clench as if it was being twisted in a blender.

Aziraphale’s sleeping face had no evidence of distress on it, his blue eyes had no tears rolling down them, his cheeks were not red from anger or betrayal, and his lips were not forming words of hate and grief. He was so deeply asleep he didn’t stir when Anthony turned back around and sobbed into the pillow that they were sharing. Gripping Aziraphale’s arms against him tighter, not ever wanting to be out of reach of them.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. It's going to hurt.

Chapter 28

Aziraphale woke up the next morning with no feeling in either arm, he blinked several times before he realized they were still wrapped around Anthony tightly.

He chuckled, and then tried to gauge Anthony’s sleep, if it was deep enough for extraction, or if his arms around him was something Anthony continued to need in his dreams. Aziraphale adjusted and looked at Anthony’s face, twisted in a nightmare it seemed, Aziraphale tightened his arms around him and placed a gentle kiss on his temple, trying to keep the bad thoughts and bad dreams at bay. Anthony’s face flickered into several emotions in quick succession.

As he lied there holding Anthony, Aziraphale studied him closely, taking in every detail of the man he loved. He wanted to be able to know every inch of his topography, wanted to catalogue it, tuck it into his memories, so when they were apart he would have his mind to go to.

Aziraphale studied how Anthony’s lashes brushed the highest point of his cheeks, auburn tinted against his skin. How his bedhead was pointed in every direction as if he had tossed and turned all night with a balloon. How the freckles on his shoulders could make constellations that would make the galaxy envious. His gaze caressed the lengths of Anthony’s powerful wiry arms, and he brushed his long slender fingers with his thumbs since he couldn’t look at his beautiful hands. Aziraphale’s gaze followed the delicate silhouette of Anthony’s side, the dip in his shoulders turning into his pointed elbow resting above his bird-like ribs, followed the sharp angles of his hipbones, fragile dips and delicately stretched taut. The blanket covered them from the waist down, so he was unable to map the long legs, the gawky feet, the knobby knees, the soft tender area of his thighs. Aziraphale smiled and pressed a gentle kiss along the constellations on his shoulders, making a map for himself to follow in case he got lost along the way.

Aziraphale started to drift off again wrapped around Anthony, when Anthony began to stir in his sleep, muttering things that Aziraphale couldn’t understand. Anthony began to whimper slightly and Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, he reached up and kissed Anthony on the temple, pressing his lips softly to his delicate skin, feeling the fluttering pulse underneath his touch.

Anthony’s eyes fluttered open and he was jarred from the unsettling dreams he had been having from the touch of Aziraphale’s lips to his temple. He gave himself a moment to rearrange his mind, make sure he knew what had been real and what had been a dream before turning to Aziraphale.

“Good morning beautiful.” He sighed a tired smile stretching across his lips.

“Good morning beloved.” Aziraphale replied, his lips curving upwards into a sweet smile.

Anthony reached his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him into a fierce hug, his fingers pressing into the soft plush skin at his back, he was exhausted after last night. The final courage that had swelled inside him had been squashed when he realized Aziraphale hadn’t heard a word of it and he had confessed to a silent audience. He felt the bags under his eyes as evidence of his emotional and fitful night.

“I love you,” he breathed into Aziraphale’s neck, placing a gentle kiss there, the desire for forgiveness scorching onto Aziraphale’s skin.

“I love you too darling.” Aziraphale giggled at the touch fluttering at his neck.

Anthony buried his face into Aziraphale’s neck and tried to calm his nerves down, he couldn’t be this worked up in the morning, he needed some of his medication, but it was down in the Bentley’s glove compartment.

“What’s on the agenda today angel?” He asked trying to occupy his brain with distractions.

Aziraphale thought for a moment, “Well, breakfast, then bake a few things, then open the shop. My uncle called me yesterday to remind me that I hadn’t been to the farm in quite some time, and asked about my inventory, I know I’m running low on some things so maybe go up there, unless we can put it off for another week. Would you like to come with me?” He asked his eyes meeting Anthony’s, his eyes glimmering.

“You don’t have to of course, but I, it’s a place I would like to show you. It’s a part of my childhood and of course my adulthood, but the childhood memories are better.” He rebuked quickly, not wanting to make Anthony feel pressured into accompanying him.

Anthony’s lips quirked up in a half smile, “Sure angel, I’d love to see a place that’s close to your heart.” He murmured, the exhaustion in his voice evident.

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, “You don’t seem like you slept well dearest, would you like to take the day to rest? Here or if it would be more comfortable for you, your flat? I’m worried you haven’t been getting enough sleep lately.” Aziraphale’s concern was making Anthony feel worse.

“No, I’m, I’m alright, I’m going to take some of my anxiety medication when we go downstairs, and then tonight I’ll take the sleep aide that I have and rarely use. I, I’m just having a rough time turning my thoughts off at night.” Anthony stuttered.

“Is it,” Aziraphale looked away, and Anthony felt him retract a bit from his embrace, “is it something that I’m doing?” he asked in a small voice.

Anthony felt his stomach churn, he gripped Aziraphale closer, and spoke into his hair, “No no no angel, it’s not you at all. You’re perfect, as happy as you’re making me, you’re helping me so much. I promise it’s nothing you’re doing. It’s just my own stupid head all jumbled up.” He said all this so quickly he was unsure if Aziraphale could make the words out.

Aziraphale pulled him tightly against himself, “I’m sorry for asking, it seems silly of me. I know very well that even having something, someone as wonderful as you in my life that my own mental illnesses are still there. The love and happiness you bring me don’t erase them, it does improve them immensely, but they’re still there.” His voice rumbled next to Anthony’s ear and Anthony wanted to pitch himself down the stairs.

“How about you take a nice hot shower, to help you wake up a bit while I make some breakfast?” Aziraphale suggested pulling away from Anthony and smiling at him.

Anthony nodded, “that sounds perfect, um, do you want to take a quick wash before I go in?” Anthony asked cocking an eyebrow.

Aziraphale nodded, they wordlessly untangled from each other and Aziraphale went into the bathroom and turned the water of the shower on.

Anthony decided to go start a pot of tea before Aziraphale came out, he would generally take quick showers in the morning but long ones at the end of the day. By the time the tea was ready the shower would be free, and Anthony could get his shit together.

Anthony pulled out a saucer and cup, as the water boiled he thumbed through Aziraphale’s tea selection in his cupboard and debated on what sounded the best this morning. He usually was more of a coffee person, but tea was a good second. He wanted something to start the day off well, he ignored the regular boxes of Earl Grey, green, white, oolong, chamomile, and herbal teas, and looked through the more unique teas that Aziraphale had stored. Hibiscus, chrysanthemum, masala. His eyes flitted over all of them until he saw the box of honey lemon lavender tea, it sounded the most soothing of all the choices and he grabbed it and waited for the kettle to whistle.

Aziraphale quickly scrubbed up and then dressed for the day, leaving plenty of hot water for Anthony to wake up and relax with. He pulled on dark colored tartan sweater and relaxed fit trousers and then headed to the kitchen where he found Anthony stirring tea into a cup. Anthony smiled tiredly when he saw Aziraphale approaching and he handed him a cup of tea, he picked up his own cup and sipped while Aziraphale savored the flavors dancing on his palate.

“Ooh, this is delectable, I haven’t had this one in ages. How do you like it dear?” he asked Anthony as he sipped his cup quickly.

“It’s good, feels like, I dunno, a hug in a cup.” He murmured with a chuckle.

Aziraphale laughed and placed his cup down and gently wrapped his arms around Anthony, “How about a real hug instead?”

Anthony smiled and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and squeezed him close and tight, “I’ll take this any time.”

Aziraphale squeezed him extra tight and then shooed him off to take a long warm shower while he made some breakfast.

As Anthony took his long hot shower and tried to scrub his mind of everything, he needed to have his mind in the proper place to be able to readmit everything to Aziraphale. It took all he had to admit it the first time and he didn’t even hear any of it. He sighed and covered his face with his hands and groaned until his voice went up three octaves. He let the water pour down his face from the shower head and he scrubbed his face until he felt like the top layer of skin was removed and then shut the water off.

He quickly got dressed in some clean clothes that was in his drawer, a bit ago Aziraphale had cleared a drawer for him to keep clean clothes and a toothbrush in, as he did for Aziraphale at his flat. His heart started feeling fluttery when he thought of when Aziraphale had told him he could keep some things there.

“That way you won’t have to wear dirty clothes on days you spend the night.” He had blushed and stuttered his way through announcing it to Anthony, and Anthony had promptly tackled Aziraphale into a hug.

Anthony pulled on a long-sleeved red shirt and a black vest, warm and fashionable, if he got colder he could always throw on a jacket. He ran a comb through his hair and grabbed his sunglasses and went to the kitchen where Aziraphale was plating some eggs in a basket and porridge.

“I haven’t had this kind of breakfast since my mum was still alive.” Anthony remembered feeling a spark of nostalgia in his chest.

Aziraphale smiled and handed Anthony a plate and a bowl and grabbed some blueberries and strawberries out of the fridge as well as milk and then grabbed some brown sugar from one of the cupboards, he sprinkled a bit of each in his porridge and then passed it to Anthony before putting it back.

They sat and ate their breakfast and drank their tea in sweet domestic silence, stealing glances of each other between bites and then once they were done they wordlessly went downstairs to open the shop for the day.

Aziraphale frowned as he looked at the supplies he had, he was running shorter on things than he thought, and he made a list of things he would need to pick up from the farm later. As he and Anthony used what ingredients he had to make.

“You can make Tahini chocolate cookies, butter pecan gingersnap rolls, some kind of muffins, some kind of hand pies, or five spice cookies. Anything else would need more ingredients.” Anthony said looking over what they had.

“Hmm, I suppose we’ll have to go to the farm sooner rather than later. Let’s get something together then.” Aziraphale declared clapping his hands together and picking through the ingredients.

“Those hand pies sounded like a good idea, we could make those and the five spice cookies. That would use up the rest of the produce we have.” Anthony suggested with a shrug.

Aziraphale smiled, “Sounds like a plan darling.”

They worked side by side and made strawberry, peach, and raspberry hand pies, and spice cookies, using up the last of the fruits except a handful of apples.

They stocked up the display case and unlocked the doors letting the small crowd waiting outside to come in and get the baked goods they wanted for the morning. The hand pies were a big hit and they all sold within an hour. The display case was practically bare by the time they locked up and began cleaning the front of the shop and doing the dishes.

“I’ll drive since we’re getting stocked up. We’ll need the room in the truck bed.” Aziraphale explained.

Anthony smiled and held the door open for Aziraphale as they left the bakery. He quickly went to the Bentley while Aziraphale locked the bakery door and pulled a couple pills out of his med bottle in the glove compartment, and then he followed Aziraphale to his truck, sneaking in front of him and opening his door before he could get in the truck himself.

Aziraphale smiled and gave Anthony a peck on the cheek and then climbed into the driver’s side of the truck and started the engine while Anthony circled around. They buckled up and Aziraphale began to drive to the family farm.

Aziraphale was having mixed emotions about going back to the farm after the last time he was there, he was feeling the prickles of anxiety climb up his back and he absentmindedly started tapping the steering wheel in a noncoherent pattern.

Anthony glanced at Aziraphale and reached a hand over and placed it on his thigh, “Hey, it’ll be okay angel. They can’t do anything to hurt you.” He reassured giving Aziraphale’s thigh a squeeze.

Aziraphale smiled weakly, “I know they can’t, what matters is what I think of me, what I think of you, what we think of us. It’s just, old anxieties. I know they can’t hurt me, can’t hurt you.” Aziraphale took his hand down from the steering wheel and slipped his hand into Anthony’s and laced their fingers together.

Anthony gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze and looked up at him, just the squeeze of his hand seemed to have helped ease the anxieties he was feeling. He wished his would die down too, but he felt the cement knot in his stomach grow with each passing moment he wasn’t telling Aziraphale the truth, where he would hear it, in a safe place where they had privacy.

Once they arrived at the farm Aziraphale parked the truck and turned off the engine and they sat in silence for a moment in front of the barn. Aziraphale trying to gather the thoughts in his head. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to acknowledge his family while they were there except for absolute necessities to get the produce and things he needed.

“Angel?” Anthony asked hesitantly.

Aziraphale looked up at him and gave him another small smile.

“We could always run away together, far away where your family and my family can’t find us. Where we wouldn’t have to deal with their crap anymore.” Anthony murmured gently reaching up and letting his fingertips trace Aziraphale’s cheek.

Aziraphale chuckled and reached his hand up to hold against Anthony’s resting on his cheek.

“And where would we go dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“Oh somewhere far, far away, Japan, Iowa, Canada, even somewhere in the stars. We have a whole universe we could hide away in.” Anthony ventured his voice gaining excitement.

Aziraphale tilted his head to look at him, “You’re rather serious dear aren’t you?” He asked his tone no longer teasing toward his love.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, “I am very serious angel. If it would make you happy, safe, unstressed, unafraid, I would take you to the stars, Alpha Centuri maybe.”

“Alpha Centuri?” Aziraphale asked chuckling running his thumb along the top of Anthony’s hand.

“Alpha Centuri.” Anthony repeated leaning close to Aziraphale and placing a kiss on his lips.

Aziraphale hummed under the softness of Anthony’s lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

Anthony pulled back after a moment and smiled at Aziraphale, “All you have to do is say the word and we’ll go, I’ll book us a rocket ship and we’ll be off.” He promised with one last thumb caress to Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Will do.” Aziraphale smiled, then he sighed, “We’d better be going, it’s almost time for the scheduled apple picking events of the day, and we don’t want to have crowds to mull through.”

Anthony nodded and they simultaneously got out of the truck and Anthony fell in step with Aziraphale and followed him into the barn.

Luckily the barn was empty, Aziraphale led Anthony to the apple picking gear he kept there, the wagon, the picking bags and then he showed Anthony how to put the bag on and then they walked up the orchard hand in hand, Anthony pulling the wagon, until they got to some promising apple trees with ladders already waiting at the base of the tree.

Aziraphale and Anthony climbed up two ladders next to each other, once in the midst of the ripened apples Aziraphale helped instruct Anthony on how to choose the perfect apple to pick.

“You want to check the firmness of the apple. Hold it and feel the skin, you can even gently press a small area of the skin to make sure it’s firm to the touch. You want to avoid ones that are soft, mushy, or indent easily when you press the skin. Once you find one that’s firm enough, to pick it you want to next see if it’s ready to separate from the tree. To test it you’ll hold the apple in your hand, and gently lift it toward the stem and twist. If it comes off easily it’s ready. If it takes a bit of yanking and tugging it isn’t.” Aziraphale explained while he demonstrated on an apple that was hanging between the both of them.

“And you’ll want to gently place it in the picking bag so you don’t bruise it when you put it in.”

Anthony watched as Aziraphale delicately placed the apple he had picked in the bag and grinned, he looked up at the apples hanging in his face and scrutinized them closely.

“I thought you told the ripeness of apples by their color.” He raised an eyebrow looking at the variety of shades of yellow and red on the tree.

“Well, in most cases with produce that is part of it, typically apples have a red color with a bit of light green around the stem when they’re ripe. But the color can be misleading, some apples that are highly colored change to red weeks before they are mature. Instead of checking the skin color you want to cut open the apple or take a bite and look at the color of the seeds. If the seeds are a dark brown then they’re ripe. But since we don’t want to pick and cut each apple, you just learn how to tell from the firmness and easiness of separating them from the tree. Don’t get me wrong you still get some unripened ones, or ones that are too ripe, but it gets easier the longer you do it.” Aziraphale explained, his plump hand gently cupping an apple on the tree branch, and gesturing to another one close to it.

Anthony felt a grin spreading on his face, he was so smitten and in love with Aziraphale, he could listen to him talk about apple ripeness all day for eternity, as long as he got to be near him.

Aziraphale blushed at the thousand watt smile that Anthony was aiming at him and he felt his heart flutter in his chest.

“After we pick enough of the apples I can show you the general store part of the farm with the rest of the produce.” Aziraphale picked another apple and placed it in the bag that hung around his torso.

Anthony reached up and tested an apple’s give against the stem, “What other kind of fruits and vegetables does your family grow on the farm?” he asked placing the apple delicately in the bag around his own torso.

“Well we recently started bee keeping to harvest honey. Then other fruits we grow are different berries like blue, black, and raspberries, then we also grow cherries, strawberries, lemons, sometimes we grow watermelon and coconut, and of course the apples which are the pride and joy of the Eden farms. Then we have vegetables like potatoes, onions, corn, green beans, some peppers, tomatoes, pumpkins, squash. Oh so many it’s hard to keep up with sometimes. Then inside the store they sell the produce as well as homemade jams and jellies, the honey and honey beauty products, homemade soaps and body scrubs.” Aziraphale rattled all this off as he continued to pick apples. Anthony tried to keep up and pick apples as much as Aziraphale was, but he kept glancing at him and getting caught up in how his heart swelled when he saw his eyes sparkle, the corners of his eyes crinkle, the sunlight catch his hair.

They fell into a silence as they continued to pick apples from the tree, Aziraphale picking double the amount Anthony was, Anthony kept distracting himself with how ridiculously in love with Aziraphale he was.

Aziraphale kept stealing glimpses at Anthony, smiling at his looks of concentration, his critical eyes and set of his mouth as he checked an apple, the gentleness in which he took it from the tree, and the care he took in putting it in his bag. Aziraphale also looked at how the sunlight was glinting on in his hair making it look like rolling flames, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled in satisfaction when picking a good apple, the long and graceful movements of his hands. He sighed happily and turned his attention back to the apples.

Aziraphale and Anthony picked more apples until their bags were nice and full, as Aziraphale picked apples he hummed and sang to himself, and Anthony was hypnotized as if he had encountered a siren.

“The lord is good to me, and so I thank the lord, for giving me the things I need, love and rain and an apple seed, yes he is good to me.” Aziraphale sang quietly to himself, he blushed when he realized Anthony was just staring at him with a silly smile on his face.

“It was a song my grandfather used to sing, he would sing it every time that we went apple picking.” He said with a small smile.

Anthony shook his head slightly and looked at Aziraphale, “You’re just remarkable angel, everything you do is just, lovely.”

Aziraphale blushed as Anthony grinned and just gazed at him as he continued to hum and pick apples at the same time.

Once Aziraphale’s bag was nearly full they called apple picking quits for the day and climbed down their ladders, they placed their bags in the wagon and Aziraphale pulled it as he led Anthony to the barn.

“And here,” Aziraphale stopped and grabbed one of the bags, “are the bushel scales, this is where the apples get weighed.” He placed the second bag on the scale and looked at the total weight that read out on the digital screen.

“Now we can load these in the truck bed and then go inside and get the rest of what we’ll need for a while.” Aziraphale picked up the bags and putting them back into the wagon and began wheeling it to the truck.

Anthony helped Aziraphale load the bushel bags of apples into the bed of the truck, securing them against the wooden flats, and then they made their way back to the barn. They parked the wagon and Aziraphale led Anthony to the store front, taking the back way in from the barn.

Aziraphale wordlessly slipped his hand into Anthony’s and laced his fingers through his, squeezing his hand gently as they entered the store. He was nervous but having Anthony with him was helping him get over his nerves and feel strong, and brave. They passed the swinging door that hid the alcove of offices, he didn’t know if his uncle was in his office but he imagined that he was. He took in a sharp breath as they continued to walk along the concrete flooring and to the checkout where his Aunt Uriel sat as usual.

“Aziraphale.” His aunt Uriel greeted with a nod as they stopped at the counter where she sat writing down figures in her book.

“Aunt Uriel, hello, here is the weight for the apples, we’re going to look at the rest of the produce.” He nodded toward Anthony.

Uriel looked Anthony up and down, her expression unchanging and wordlessly she went back to calculating figures in her book.

Anthony raised an eyebrow and looked at Aziraphale, who shook his head slightly. Aziraphale grabbed one of the grocery carts that were sitting by the checkout and he and Anthony began walking around the storefront. Sunlight filtering in through the windows on the big wooden inner walls.

“What do you think of cherry clafoutis?” Aziraphale asked studying a bag of cherries.

“That sounds like a disease angel, how about cherry puff pastry braided twists instead?” Anthony suggested with a laugh.

Aziraphale chuckled and added several bags of cherries to the cart.

“Cherries, berries, bananas, and lemons are all good for pies if nothing else. We can just bake loads of pies and make pretty designs on the crust.” Anthony peered at the blueberries and strawberries.

“Very true.” Aziraphale said as they both loaded the cart with a variety of berries, bananas, and lemons.

Aziraphale grabbed some kiwis, coconuts, and a couple pineapples. Then they turned their attention to the vegetables and grabbed some traditional ones for baked goods and desserts like carrots, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin.

“Are you planning on making an onion pie angel?” Anthony teased as Aziraphale loaded a bag of yellow onions into the cart.

Aziraphale swatted at him, “No, I buy my own produce from here as well as produce for the shop.” He explained as if Anthony was thick.

“I’m just teasing you.” Anthony wrapped an arm around Aziraphale and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose at Anthony and they continued to load up on some vegetables, once their cart was full to the brim of produce and several jars of honey, Aziraphale brought it to the counter where Uriel was still working on calculations and waited for her to ring them up.

Uriel glanced up at both of them, unphased by their presence, rang them up, bagged their produce, and then took the money from Aziraphale nodded at both of them, and then returned to her calculating in her book.

“Pleasant one she is.” Anthony muttered as they walked toward the back of the barn where Aziraphale parked.

Aziraphale laughed as they walked past the alcove of offices and headed toward the truck. They had just made it to the doorway of the barn when Aziraphale heard behind them, “Nephew!”

They stopped midstride and Aziraphale turned to see his uncle Gabriel behind them emerging from the alcove.

“Hello Uncle.” Aziraphale greeted with a slight nod.

“Not going to come and chat before you go?” Gabriel asked a smile on his face, directed at only Aziraphale.

“Didn’t know you were wanting to chat, you did call me yesterday and I imagined that you had said what all you wanted to say then.” Aziraphale stated simply.

“Well there are some more things in the works that we should discuss.” Gabriel glanced at Anthony.

Aziraphale tensed, “Well, we can load up the truck and to your office and chat.” Aziraphale glanced from his uncle to Anthony.

“I just need to speak with you.” Gabriel spoke curtly, the smile on his face now tense and he was looking at Aziraphale fully, not acknowledging Anthony in any way.

Aziraphale’s lips set in a line and he looked at Anthony.

“I can load up the truck and wait for you.” Anthony nodded at Aziraphale, shooting a sneer at Gabriel.

Aziraphale broke into a smile and he reached up and gave Anthony a kiss before they broke apart and Aziraphale followed his uncle to the back offices in the alcove.

Anthony took the load of produce to the truck and began loading the produce into the bed of the truck, using the straps in the back to secure them from rolling around and getting bruised. After Aziraphale wasn’t back for several minutes Anthony returned the cart to the front of the store by where Uriel still sat working on her calculations.

Anthony debated on making small talk with her but decided that it would be better to just wait for Aziraphale to come out of the office with Gabriel. Anthony started to head back to the truck, but he could hear snippets of the conversation from the back of the alcove coming from Gabriel’s office, he stood lingering at the swinging door. He could hear Gabriel’s voice raising and Aziraphale’s voice sounding angry, but he couldn’t make out the words. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall near the door waiting for Aziraphale to come out so he could help him in any way he needed him to.

“Aziraphale, please take a seat.” Gabriel gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk, the chairs that Aziraphale hated because they were uncomfortable, they were not made for his body.

“I’d rather not.” He said curtly surprising them both.

Gabriel’s friendly face slipped for a moment, and Aziraphale could see the carefully placed mask that his uncle usually wore flash a face of contempt and anger, only momentarily and then he was smiling again.

“No matter, stand if you like.” He sat down at his chair and then opened his laptop.

“Aziraphale, we haven’t really talked since the family dinner, in fact we haven’t really discussed your guest from that night. I see that you brought him with you today.” His uncle started, his tone light and nonconfrontational as he typed onto the keyboard.

“Yes, he spent the night with me last night and when we took inventory this morning I realized that we would need more to bake with the next couple weeks, since he is my boyfriend I wanted to show him a part of my past that I enjoyed as a child. As well since he is my associate I wanted him to know the process of getting the produce in case I were ever unable to get it myself.” Aziraphale knew he didn’t have to mention the part at the beginning of Anthony spending the night with him, but he couldn’t resist rubbing it into his uncle’s face.

It had the desired effect, and his uncle made a face at that comment, slight disgust tinged with annoyance.

“I can understand your want for that, I wanted to bring Uriel here as soon as she was willing, and your uncle Randolph wanted to bring Michaela here quickly as well. This place always brought good memories for us and we wanted to share it with those we loved.” He reminisced with a small smile on his face, then he shook his head slightly and looked up at Aziraphale, “so your, relationship, with him has grown to the point of,” his uncle visibly grimaced, “sleepovers.” He stated with a tone of disapproval, not asking.

Aziraphale laughed humorlessly at the “sleepover” comment and was torn between making a sarcastic comment back or ignoring it.

“Yes, it has.” Aziraphale finally responded.

His uncle sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and shook his head, as if this troubled him more than the Gordian knot.

“I’m sorry to hear that Aziraphale.” He looked up at Aziraphale, his hands propping his chin up.

Aziraphale wanted to shrug him off and leave the room, but he knew if he did that his uncle would either follow him out of the office or call him repeatedly until he got to his point.

“I won’t apologize for it, I won’t apologize for loving him, and I won’t apologize for being who I am. You all kept me in a box my entire life, and now that I am finally emerging from it, finally learning to be myself and love myself, I no longer fit in your box, nor do my thoughts and desires and loves. I will not allow myself to be boxed up again in my life by you or anyone.” Aziraphale replied, his voice strong.

Gabriel held his hands up defensively, “I don’t’ mean it in that way at all. You’re an adult and you can make your own choices of who you fornicate with. I mean that I’m sorry to hear that because of other reasons.” Gabriel dropped his hands to the desk and looked up at Aziraphale.

“How do you mean it then?” Aziraphale asked annoyance creeping into his tone.

“I mean it in the way that I’m sorry you’ve allowed yourself to get so attached and giving into your, urges, with him. You just had to do this, couldn’t do all that with any of the women we introduced you to. It’s a disappointment, you’re a disappointment, bringing that man into your grandfather’s home, his business, his farm, how do you think he would have felt about it?” Gabriel demanded without a flicker of emotion on his face.

Aziraphale stood there a bit surprised for a moment, before his anger boiled over, “Grandfather wouldn’t care, he loved me unconditionally, he would have been happy that I was happy, that I’ve found someone to love me just as unconditionally. You have only ever loved me under certain conditions, and I am done with it. I’m not sorry that you’re disappointed, and I am not a disappointment.” Aziraphale’s voice was firm as it rose several octaves, his chest thrown out defensively.

Gabriel’s eyes flickered at Aziraphale and he raised an eyebrow, “He can’t work at the bakery anymore. You hired him without consulting me beforehand and without asking if it was in the budget to hire on more help. He is no longer allowed to be on company property as of today he is terminated.” His voice was firm.

Aziraphale laughed humorlessly, “That’s all you’re going to say to me? That’s what you’re going to choose to say about all of this? Firing him won’t make any difference in us being together.” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest.

Gabriel clicked a few more things on the laptop, ignoring Aziraphale, “I told you how Michaela was now going to be in charge of the online presence of the business, marketing and such, didn’t I?” He asked glancing at Aziraphale and back to the laptop.

Aziraphale was dumbfounded at what his uncle was saying, it was as if he was completely ignoring him and brushing off his declarations of person and love.

“Yes you mentioned it, what does that have to do with anything that we’re talking about?” Aziraphale asked incredulously anger seeping into his tone.

“Well she was finishing up some paperwork on new hires, background checks and the like, calling previous employers and checking references. While doing this she noticed that she didn’t have Anthony’s resume or application on file.”

“No I didn’t have him fill one out, I thought it was rather silly. I saw the work he did and that was good enough for me.” Aziraphale said simply.

“Right, well we still have a hiring process Aziraphale.” Gabriel chided.

Aziraphale seethed, he wasn’t a child, and he was being spoken to like one. He just wanted his uncle to spit out what he was going to say and leave it at that.

“Since we didn’t have that information on him Michaela decided to look around some back channels to make sure you didn’t hire a felon, and she came across some social media accounts of Anthony’s. Are you familiar with Facebook and LinkedIn?” He looked up at Aziraphale, his tone condescending.

“No I’m not, and you know as well as anyone that I don’t go on the internet for anything if I can help it.” Aziraphale snapped.

“Well you should have made an effort in this part because you hired someone that should have never been hired in the first place.” Gabriel’s voice rose in anger.

“If he’s a felon that doesn’t matter, we hire felons all the time for the field work.” Aziraphale rebutted, trying to think if Anthony had ever mentioned being in jail before, possibly when they were drunk, but nothing was coming to mind.

“He’s not a felon he’s a fucking DeVille!” Gabriel shouted anger reverberating in each syllable.

Aziraphale scoffed, “His name is Anthony Crowley, not Anthony DeVille, tell Michaela to do better research next time, this is ridiculous.” He started to turn to leave the office.

“Don’t believe me look for yourself.” Gabriel turned his laptop around to face Aziraphale.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and came closer and looked at the screen if anything to end this nonsense conversation.

He looked at the screen, in the center of the screen was a photograph of Anthony kneading dough, back when his hair was longer, pulled back in a half bun. He was wearing an apron over a black shirt with the emblem of Lucy’s Café over the chest. His sunglasses were glinting the flash from the camera and he was sticking his tongue out at the camera. Under his photograph was his name Anthony Crowley, and under than in a smaller font size were statistical looking things. Aziraphale read over them feeling as if he were in a fever dream. ‘Works at Lucy’s Café, Works at Home Plant Daddy, Lives in Mayfair, London, From Mayfair, London, Relationship Status Single, Family Members Stanley DeVille uncle, Bee DeVille cousin, Danielle DeVille cousin, Hans DeVille cousin, Laurent DeVille cousin.

Aziraphale felt his face flush and ice go through his veins. He stood upright, his back straight, shoulders back, and he looked his uncle in the face.

“This doesn’t prove anything, not everything on the internet is true, and I don’t believe that this is.” He spoke each word clearly enunciating every syllable. Whether out of anger towards his uncle, or to try and convince himself.

Gabriel sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, he turned the laptop back towards him and he steepled his fingertips together and tapped his lip with the index fingers.

“If that doesn’t convince you,” he paused and directed his gaze to the laptop, he tapped the trackpad and looked up at Aziraphale, “Perhaps this will.”

Aziraphale glared at his uncle, he just wanted to go out to the truck with Anthony, talk to him, find out what was going on. He was feeling lost.

An unfamiliar voice wafted through the air from the laptop, “Hans and Laurent have told me your approach, and I must say, that tactic from you is spectacular. Have you actually fucked the baker or are you stringing him along long enough to make him think you actually care about him before you milk the recipe from him? I was just surprised hearing that your plan was just to fuck him until you got what you wanted.” The voice was deep and gravelly, almost sinister sounding as it echoed through the room, loud in the otherwise quiet office.

“Yeah I am pretty proud of it. I have fucked him, but I’m also trying to make him think I care about him. He has a recipe book that has recipes in it from further back, probably even from Goderyc Eden, that would probably win us every competition we entered.” Aziraphale recognized the voice instantly as Anthony’s, and he felt his heart twist painfully, felt his face go numb, his blood pound in his ears, this can’t be true, can’t be real.

The audio from the laptop continued to play, but Aziraphale couldn’t hear it anymore, all he heard was a dull roar surrounding him.

“This is not real.” He whispered, his voice broken, not loud enough to hear.

He heard a dull sound and his gaze looked to his uncle, he was talking, but Aziraphale couldn’t make out the words, couldn’t hear him, couldn’t understand him.

He shook his head and turned and walked out the office door. He felt like he was wading through a pool of molasses, the air was thick around him.

“Aziraphale!” His uncle’s voice snapped from behind him, an arm gripping Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale stopped and looked at his uncle bewildered, pulling away from his uncle’s touch, his grip on his arm like a burning fire. His uncle kept his hand where it was and looked at him, his face painted with pity.

“It’s not your fault, someone like you, inexperienced, naïve, you’re easily manipulated I’m sure you would have given him the deed to the bakery if he had asked for it in his serpent’s tongue. He came along and told you the right words to make you feel like you were worth something, like you were important, like you were attractive. Did the right things to make you feel special and loved, it was all lies, and that is the truth, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. I’m just trying to look out for you.” Gabriel consoled him, giving his arm a squeeze.

Aziraphale felt numb but his uncle’s words were making an anger spread through him like a wildfire.

“Take your hand off me and keep your insignificant words to yourself!” He bellowed pulling his arm away from his uncle, his voice reverberating off the walls of the alcove.

The door swung open and Anthony came running to Aziraphale, his face was painted with concern, as he looked between Aziraphale and Gabriel.

“We need to leave, now.” Anthony said softly, grabbing Aziraphale by the wrist and giving him a gentle pull towards him.

Aziraphale looked up at Anthony’s face, hearing the echoes of the recording in his head, and numbly nodded, following Anthony out of the alcove and outside.

“I don’t know what that wanker said to you, but you look like a ghost, maybe I should drive us home.” Anthony suggested softly, glancing at Aziraphale as they headed to the truck.

Aziraphale wordlessly handed Anthony the keys and walked in step with him to the truck. Anthony opened the door for Aziraphale and shut the door behind him after he climbed in. Aziraphale watched Anthony circle the truck and climb in. He felt like the aftermath of getting struck by lightning, fuzzy, numb.

Anthony looked at him, furrowing his brows, “What’s wrong angel?” He asked his voice full of concern.

Aziraphale couldn’t make words come out of his mouth and he just shook his head.

“Well, let’s go home.” Anthony smiled gently resting a hand on Aziraphale’s wrist.

Aziraphale nodded silently, his eyes fixed forward, sliding out of focus as they drove.

Anthony drove the truck carefully, not wanting to bruise any of the fruit by taking a turn too sharp. He glanced over at Aziraphale every three seconds, something was wrong, he was going to kill his uncle. Rip his tongue out and serve it to a pack of hungry wolves. The only part of the conversation he had heard from the other side of the swinging door was Aziraphale shouting at his uncle to unhand him and that’s when he came running in.

He glanced at Aziraphale again, he was still staring at the dashboard of the truck, silent, his hands gripping into fists in his lap, his breathing ragged.

Anthony reached towards him, carefully placing his fingertips on his wrist, “Angel?” He asked.

Aziraphale flinched and recoiled from Anthony’s touch, and then he looked up, blinking rapidly, looking at Anthony as if he didn’t recognize him, his eyes were searching around him, his breathing was quickening, he began rocking back and forth.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay angel, it’s okay.” Anthony tried to soothe him as they drove, his hand caressing his arm up and down the soft sweater’s material.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to get out.” Aziraphale said his voice almost frantic as he looked around the truck, undoing his seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.

“Hey! Stop! Hang on I’ll pull over; we’ll get out, go for a walk, get some air. Don’t go jumping out of a moving vehicle.” Anthony yelped gripping a handful of Aziraphale’s sweater as he looked around where they were.

“Oi, we’re close to the park, here we’ll pull over and go look at the ducks and breathe, just don’t go jumping out on me.” Anthony said with a nervous edge to his voice.

Aziraphale nodded, but continued to rock back and forth, his hands gripping into fists, his knuckles white.

Anthony had to drive a bit further before they reached St. James’ Park, their park.

Anthony parked the truck and looked at Aziraphale to make sure he wasn’t internally combusting before they could get out of the truck.

Aziraphale shoved the door open and began walking swiftly along the walking path.

Anthony, surprised, scrambled out of the truck and hurried after him, his long legs helping in breaking the distance between them, but Aziraphale was moving swiftly with a purpose.

Anthony finally caught up with him when they reached the bandstand gazebo that they had been at weeks ago.

Anthony stood in the entrance of the gazebo while Aziraphale walked in small circles inside the center of it muttering to himself and shaking his head and gripping his fists tightly.

Anthony was afraid to say anything, he didn’t know what was going on in Aziraphale’s head, but he didn’t want Aziraphale to feel alone.

Aziraphale stopped suddenly and looked at Anthony his eyes were wide, and his face was paler than usual.

“Angel, what is it?” Anthony asked in a small voice, he hadn’t seen him like this before, he’s seen him anxious, and insecure, and nervous, but not like this.

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed and then opened again, he stood there in the middle of the bandstand and stared at Anthony, and Anthony felt like the world was stopping.

“What did that bastard say to you?” Anthony growled, his frustrations baring in his voice.

“What did he say to me, what did he say to me?” Aziraphale repeated, his gaze accusatory, a humorless laugh escaping his lips.

“Angel, what happened?” Anthony begged, his voice breaking, he wanted to help fix whatever bad had happened.

“My uncle informed me that you are no longer allowed to be an employee at the bakery, or any part of Eden farms.” Aziraphale said tentatively, testing the air.

Anthony gaped at him, “That’s all? That’s not horrible, I’ll just hang out and work with you for free, doesn’t bother me a bit.” His voice was incredulous, this was what Aziraphale had been freaking out about?

“Would you know by chance why you aren’t allowed to be an employee anymore?” Aziraphale’s voice was low, his eyes seemed a bit feral.

“Because your uncle is an arsehole?” Anthony suggested his arms outstretched shrugging his shoulders.

“Because you are already employed elsewhere, with your family.” Aziraphale spat the words out like they were rotten fruit. And Anthony felt ice grip his heart.

“He said, he said what?” Anthony stuttered, not knowing what to say, what to do, he felt the world around him slowly melting.

“He showed me your social media page, where you are saying you’re working at Lucy’s with your family, that you’re single and working with your family at Lucy’s.” Aziraphale hedged his voice low and full of pain.

Anthony’s brain must have fritzed because he had no clue what Aziraphale was talking about. He didn’t have any social media content, the only thing he had was a Spotify and Youtube account to listen to music and watch old Vines.

“He showed you my what?” He asked his voice turning into a yelp.

“That’s the part you’re stuck on? That he showed me your Facebook page and showed me what an absolute idiot I was? He sat there and let me peruse the whole thing, you in your Lucy’s uniform kneading dough, decorating a cake, your family listed, your uncle, your uncle is Stanley DeVille! The man that has been trying to ruin me, ruin my family, he is your uncle. This whole time?” His voice broke looking up at Anthony for the first time, meeting his gaze.

“I-I can explain.” Anthony’s voice was thick, his throat was closing up and he felt tears welling in his eyes.

Aziraphale’s face crumpled and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, biting his bottom lip so hard he could taste blood.

“Angel, I don’t even have a Facebook!” Anthony stepped towards him, his hand outstretched, reaching toward Aziraphale, wanting to comfort him.

“Don’t touch me.” Aziraphale cried with a wail that made Anthony feel like shattering on the spot.

“Please, let me explain.” He pleaded, tears no longer holding back as they rolled down his face, he pulled off his sunglasses and wiped his eyes.

“Explain what? How you lied to me all this time? How you used me?” Aziraphale rasped, his voice scratchy and full of tears.

“I didn’t lie to you about everything.” Anthony whispered, his voice low and shaking.

“You lied about everything, I heard you.” Aziraphale hissed accusingly looking up at Anthony, his blue eyes filled with a fire.

“What do you mean?” Anthony asked, his voice on the precipice of shattering.

“I heard what you said to your uncle, what he said to you. How you, how you f-f-fucked me,” He whimpered the words, they sounded like a kitten’s cry. He inhaled sharply, “How you made me think you cared about me, how you were simply stringing me along to get a recipe to “win the war”, I heard it all.” Aziraphale’s voice shattered as he threw Anthony’s words back at him as stifled sobs racked through him.

Anthony felt the world around him break, felt the atmosphere push on him as if it were lead and not air, he felt like he had a boulder on his chest, felt like he was drowning underwater, cement blocks tied to his feet, water filling his lungs. He felt his eyes stinging with tears as they rolled down his face, felt his heart begin to race, felt his chest tighten, his stomach churn.

“Angel,” Anthony choked out.

“Don’t,” Aziraphale hissed at him.

Anthony took a deep breath, “Aziraphale, please, let me t-try to ex-explain.” Anthony stuttered, his throat wrapping around the words so he couldn’t speak them without them clawing their way from his lips, prying them apart.

“You lied to me, there’s nothing to explain.” Aziraphale rasped.

Anthony felt desperation claw from deep in his chest, “It’s not what it looks like, it may have started out that way, but I really do love you. It’s all part of the “Great Plan” your uncle talked about the war, mine talked about the war. That’s all that was, I really do l-love you.” Anthony rushed to speak, the faster he spoke the faster he could explain and the faster Aziraphale wouldn’t hate him.

“The Great Plan?” Aziraphale chuckled, the sound strained, “Well for the record, great pustulant mangled bollocks to the great blasted plan!” He shouted, his voice full of pain, his voice echoing off the ceilings of the bandstand.

Anthony flinched, “I love you Aziraphale, I know you love me too, that’s why this hurts so bloody much, but please, please let me explain.” Anthony begged stepping towards Aziraphale reaching out to him.

Aziraphale glared up at Anthony, his arms still tightly wrapped around him, “That was a long time ago.” He lamented, his tone full of shame and pain and hurt.

“It wasn’t so long ago, it was just this morning, angel,” Anthony kneeled in front where he was, his legs finally giving out from under him, “please.” He begged, the tears streaming down his face, his nose stuffed up, his sinuses pounding, he didn’t care, he welcomed all the pain and agony he was feeling, he’d welcome Armageddon if it meant Aziraphale would let him explain, if Aziraphale would understand.

“This is ridiculous, you’re ridiculous, I don’t know why I’m still talking to you.” Aziraphale hissed his heart shredding apart inside his chest. He didn’t want to look at Anthony, didn’t want to hear his voice, didn’t want to be reminded that he was a fool.

Anthony whimpered, but he didn’t rebuke, Aziraphale watched as he slowly rose from his knees, shaky, watched as Anthony wiped his eyes with the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt, watched as Anthony stood there, looking at him, as his world shattered around him.

“I-I’ll leave if that’s what you want, I’ll leave, I’m leaving.” He stammered, spinning on his heel and beginning to walk away.

He and Aziraphale simultaneously realized that Anthony had Aziraphale’s keys, and he stopped while Aziraphale yelped, “You can’t leave Anthony,” He paused, inhaling sharply, “there isn’t anywhere to go.” The defeat in his voice was palpable.

Anthony spun back around, fervently hopeful one last time, he had one last idea, “It’s a big universe, even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, the thing between our families, we can go off together. Remember? Alpha Centuri, just say the word and I’ll get us a rocket ship. We can get far away from here, far away from these awful people, far away from the dishonesty and pain, we can start over.” The wild shine in Anthony’s eyes made Aziraphale stop for a moment and think of them escaping their families together, escaping the rivalry, the pain. Then his heart tore as he heard Anthony’s voice on that recording echo in his mind again and pain stabbed through his chest.

“Go off together? Listen to yourself.” He scoffed, the hurt in his heart making him want to last out at Anthony, make him want to hurt as badly as he was.

Anthony flinched and grimaced, clenching his eyes closed. He tried again, he looked at Aziraphale, meeting his eyes, “Aziraphale I promise to you, on everything, you are my best friend, the love of my life, and if I could spend the rest of my life begging for you to forgive me. I swear to you it is not, I love you.” He finished lamely, his voice giving out and it rasping out as a whisper, his sorrow choking him.

“Friends? We’re not friends, we have nothing whatsoever in common, we’re on opposite sides!” Aziraphale cried out desperately, he couldn’t look at Anthony much longer without dissolving in tears and forgiving him for anything he could possibly be at fault for.

“We’re on our side.” Anthony retorted, corrected quickly. Aziraphale knew, he knew that they were on the same side, the same team, he knew that Anthony loved him. Desperation crawled up his throat from his chest again as Aziraphale’s pale blue eyes met his.

“There is no our side Anthony, not anymore, it’s over.” Aziraphale cried out, as he jerked his hands, giving a finality to the words that ripped themselves from between his lips.

Anthony felt the world around him shatter, he heard a ringing in his ears, he felt the world stop spinning. He stood there for a moment, staring at Aziraphale, feeling the grief rip through him like shards of glass.

“Right, well then,” He didn’t know what he was saying, didn’t know what else to say, he wanted to beg Aziraphale, he wanted to prostrate himself before him and beg Aziraphale’s forgiveness, beg and plead until he could no longer speak, until he could no longer breathe.

He tried to clear his throat but a grunt came out instead. His brain locked down, and threw him on autopilot. He was no longer in charge of his body, his hand fell to his pocket and he took the keys to the truck out and he placed them on the wooden flats of the floor of the bandstand, and he walked away. His legs shaking with each step, his back feeling like he had been stabbed, his heart shredding beneath his chest.

Aziraphale watched as Anthony walked away, and silence filled the air around him, thick silence that suffocated him, that drowned him. His knees collapsed out from under him and he fell to the floor of the bandstand, his arms clutched around himself he gripped as tightly as he could, he had to stay here, had to stay present. He felt like he had been ripped out of the fabric of his life as he rocked back and forth on his knees weeping, the tears burning his eyes until he could no longer see, his cries choking him until he could no longer speak, his own sobs deafening him to the silence of the gazebo and making him aware of the dull ache of pain coating him like a concrete blanket, the only sounds besides his sobs he could hear was the repeating audio of Anthony, “I fucked him trying to make him think I cared about him.” A never-ending loop of anguish mixed with his own thoughts. How could he have been so foolish, who would ever care about him in that way? Who could ever learn to love someone like him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what the whole fic started with, just the thought of Anthony and Aziraphale on opposite sides of the swinging door when the secret was revealed. That turned into a 28 chapter fic (with several more coming). If you're crying I am too. Of you're not I didnt write good enough


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The after effects of the bandstand.  
> Anthony confronts his uncle.  
> Then rushes to get to Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning Slight violence, mentions of blood, the word fat used negatively.

Aziraphale didn’t know how long he was at the bandstand after Anthony left, he wasn’t aware of the passing of time, wasn’t aware of anything for several hours. It wasn’t until thunder sounded and lightning cracked across the sky that he began to reconnect to himself. He felt the numbness in his legs, the ache of his knees, he felt the emptiness of his chest, the place where his heart had been now a burnt pile of ashes.

He slowly rose from the floor of the bandstand, his legs tingling and wobbling beneath him, he staggered to the wooden bench that surrounded the inside of the gazebo, and sat down on them, waiting for the feeling to return to his legs. He looked around at the surrounding area, the skies were dark, swirling blue and gray, foreboding, fortuitous. The thunder sounded again, closer this time, the lightning bright and threatening as it zigzagged across the sky.

Aziraphale spotted his keys on the floor of the bandstand and he stood tentatively, once he was sure he wouldn’t topple over he walked over to the keys and picked them up, and headed to where the truck was parked on the other side of the park. The distance between the truck and the bandstand feeling like it stretched miles, much more of a distance to walk than earlier when he and Anthony had first arrived. His chest clutched as he thought of the events of the morning, he curled his hands into fists and tried to keep those thoughts at bay, knowing that if he thought about them he would come unraveled and he needed to get home.

He reached his truck right as the rain began to pour down onto the barren park, no one else was out besides him, all the families long gone in fear of the storm. He pulled the tarp he kept in the truck over the produce so the rain wouldn’t ruin it, tying it down firmly and making sure everything was secure he climbed into the truck and slammed the door. The rain thundered onto the roof of the truck. He wondered for a moment, if Anthony had made it home before the rain began to fall. He shook his head, he couldn’t think about him now, couldn’t think about this now.

He turned the radio on in the truck and played classical music at full volume to drown out his thoughts. Between the rain and the music he was able to make it to the shop in one piece. Once he got to the shop the rain had surprisingly began to pound harder and harder, he didn’t even feel the need to rush through the rain to stay as dry as possible. Aziraphale walked drudgingly inside and unlocked the door, stepping into the bakery soaking wet.

He sighed heavily and went upstairs, he needed to get out of the wet clothes before he gave himself pneumonia. Each step he climbed up the stairs felt heavier than the last, his wet clothes quickly soaking him to the bone.

He made his way silently through his flat until he reached the bathroom, he pulled his clothes off and didn’t care enough to do anything other than let them drop to the floor in a wet heaping pile. He climbed into the shower and turned the water on, as he stood there under the stream of hot water the events of the day played through his mind, no longer staying at bay.

Aziraphale cupped his hand to his mouth to stifle a cry, to keep his whimpers silent, to keep all the flooding emotions from overtaking him. He breathed in a strangled breath and tried to exhale slowly, to soothe himself. The anguish in his throat escaped and pierced the silence of the room with a wail.

All of the feelings from earlier came flooding back, his heart breaking again, feeling like feberge crystal being smashed with a bat. He quaked and shuddered as sobs racked through him, his legs beneath him weak. He folded himself into a heap on the floor of the tub and sobbed as the water beating down on him turned cold. When the water was no warmer than icicles he numbly turned it off and carefully rose from the floor of the shower. Aziraphale took in a shaky breath and grabbed a towel hanging up on the rack close by, he barely dried himself before hanging it back up and putting the heap of wet clothes in the shower so it wouldn’t get the floors even wetter, then he went into the bedroom, he stood in front of the dresser, staring at the drawer that he had cleared out for Anthony. He closed his eyes and opened a different drawer and pulled out some pajamas and crawled into the bed. He curled up into a ball on his side and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

He took in a shaky breath, and when he inhaled he could smell the lingering scents that Anthony left on the sheets, on the pillow.

Aziraphale wailed without abandon and scrambled to get out of the bed. He staggered with tears falling down his face into the living room, and he took up the same position on the sofa burying his face into one of the couch pillows that he had.

The same familiar scent wafted into his nostrils and danced along his tongue, and he jolted as if he had been struck by lightning.

He crawled off of the couch and found a spot on the floor, he looked around almost frantically and grabbed his coat that was draped over the arm of one of the chairs in the living room. He tugged it down and curled beneath it, his sobs tightening around his throat and his tears soaking the carpet.

When he had no more tears to shed that night he drifted into a painful sleep, his dreams full of painful reminders of Anthony.

Anthony stumbled through the park, not sure where to go or what to do. He wanted Aziraphale, he wanted to kill his family, he wanted to crawl under a bench and die.

He wandered aimlessly, the tears afraid to fall, if they fell it was real, if it was real he had lost Aziraphale, if he had lost Aziraphale then he had no meaning.

His feet stumbled under him and he tripped over a large rock, falling into a heap on the ground. He sat there, seeing no reason to get up off the ground. His knees bent, up and he rested his forehead on his knees. He took in a strangled breath, wanting to keep the pain he was feeling away, wanting it all to go away. His hands gripped the gravel at his sides, he fisted a handful of gravel and squeezed until the little rocks were digging into his skin. He gripped the gravel tightly and hit the ground until he couldn’t feel his hands anymore except for the pain. He stared at the ground in front of him, his eyes focusing and unfocusing until his mind went to static.

When his mind flickered back to something resembling anything, thunder and lightning were crackling across the sky, and rain was coming. He blinked until his surroundings made sense, and then he slowly rose to his feet, slumping and almost re-falling on the ground when he realized his legs were numb and asleep. He walked in a way that resembled being on the beach in bare feet, trying to regain feeling in his legs and feet and continued walking until the rain started falling.

He mentally calculated how far his flat was from the park and groaned, he pulled his phone out and ordered and Uber and waited at the entrance to the park. He let the rain fall on him, not even bothering to look for shelter, from it, his hair flopping into his face, his clothes sticking to him like glue.

When the Uber arrived he wordlessly got climbed into the back and sat there. He started to fiddle on his phone opening his anxiety app, he started following his prompts, but his mind wasn’t able to focus on it. He could barely focus enough to tap the screen.

Once the Uber arrived at his flat he tipped him and then made his way slowly up to his flat, not even able to muster the energy to check the flat for his family hiding in the shadows. He made himself walk to his bedroom and stripped off his wet clothes and then jerked open Aziraphale’s drawer and pulled out one of his sweaters, this one was a tan and gray tartan design. He stifled a sob and pulled the sweater on and then crawled into the bed, pulling the blankets around him like a barrier to the rest of the world.

Only when he was cocooned in the sweater that smelled like his love, did he allow himself to mourn, to cry, to weep. To let the sobs tear through him like tissue paper in a garbage disposal. He fucked up so badly, so badly, he couldn’t fathom how badly this turned out. He had no idea what Aziraphale had been talking about with the Facebook nonsense, but it didn’t matter. He should have told him sooner, should have told him the day he realized he was in love with him. The day he knew that he couldn’t live without him.

But it was too late, and he lost him.

He sucked in a breath, he had to explain, had to explain, had to tell Aziraphale the truth, explain what happened, explain the truth, and if after hearing the truth he still didn’t want to be together, still wanted to be apart, still wanted to have nothing to do with him, then he would accept that. But until Aziraphale knew, until he knew the truth, the whole truth, there was the smallest shred of hope.

He clung to that hope like It was the last thread holding him together, because it was.

Over the course of the next week Aziraphale slept on the floor every night, refusing to sleep in the bed or on the couch, knowing that the scent of Anthony would cause his heart to rip open. He would avoid the drawer that Anthony’s things were in. It took everything in him not to try and call him, try to message him, but every time he reached for his cell phone he felt jolts of pain go through him.

And when Anthony called and texted him he would dissolve, he had to block him from his messages. Embarrassingly he had to ask Newton to help him with that when he saw him in the bakery that day and Anthony had been texting him all morning.

“Newton,” His voice strangled coming from him.

Newt looked up surprised, and his face twisted into pity as he saw the anguish on Aziraphale’s face.

“Sure Mr. Eden. I can help you with whatever you need.” He held his hand out and Aziraphale handed him his cell phone.

After fiddling with it for a moment and not getting anywhere Newt handed the phone to Anathema who was giggling at him, within seconds she had the settings fixed to where Anthony was no longer able to get through on texts or calls.

“I, er, I take it… I’m sorry.” Newt said handing the phone back to Aziraphale over the display case.

Aziraphale nodded wordlessly and then threw himself back into the work. Though he knew his work was being affected too, he was burning many of the things he tried to bake, things weren’t selling as much as they usually were. He was donating more to the Raphael House of the Lord on Fridays more than he usually did, which wasn’t inherently a bad thing, but it was still not very good for the business money wise.

The next week was full of attempt of him, calling Aziraphale, his calls getting ignored, him texting Aziraphale, the messages returning with a message stating that he had been blocked. After not getting an answer through the phone he showed up at the bakery, his heart stinging with pain when he saw Aziraphale behind the counter, the skin under his eyes dark, his eyes dull, his mouth pulled into a frown.

Anthony saw that behind the glass of the front window, and he couldn’t make himself go inside, didn’t want to risk causing Aziraphale more pain, not in front of all the customers. He checked the placard hanging on the door for the hours, he closed at four today, he would come back right before closing and talk to him then.

He was angry, and he decided to do what he should have done the day that Aziraphale found out. Anthony got back into the Bentley and slammed the door shut and he sped across town to Lucy’s Café. When he got there he swung the front door open and stormed to his uncle’s office, he slammed the office door open and bellowed, “What the fuck?!”

His uncle unphased, didn’t look up from his desk, “You’re late Crawly, it’s been over a week.” His voice was placating, as if he was talking to a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

“You had no right!” Anthony cried, slamming a hand on the desktop of where his uncle was working.

“I had every right!” His uncle shouted rising from his chair liquidly, his fingertips resting on the papers spread out before him.

“I had every right to do it because you were too much of a spineless whelp to finish the task I gave you. You were hand chosen to follow in a simple set of directions, to find out the secrets, and then bring us to victory. And you failed at that, failed at being a member of this family, failed at being a competent maggot! Even with a step-by-step guide you couldn’t do it, you brought shame and failure onto this family, this business, this legacy. You needed pushing, and this pushed you.” His uncle thundered slamming a fist onto the desktop, “Now we have to find out a new way to win the war, to go through with the great plan, since you ruined everything, you couldn’t even do one thing!” His uncle laughed humorlessly.

“There is no war! It’s a Goddammed baking contest, an overblown cake walk at a church! There is no honor or glory in winning it! All you get is your name in the paper and a bloody trophy!” Anthony screamed, his voice wavering, the anger in his tone palpable.

“You don’t understand family! You don’t understand legacy!” His uncle shouted.

“I don’t understand family?” Anthony laughed, “I begged to be a part of this family the moment my mum died, I begged for love, for affection, for a shred of anything other than the abuse you gave me! I understand family, I understand that a family is what you choose to belong to, and I don’t choose to be a part of this family anymore.” He hissed jerking his face up to his uncle.

“Oh and I suppose that Eden is your family now? That he is going to be what you choose?” His uncle scoffed laughter full of malice, “You could have finally proved that you were in this family, finally you were getting your place! But then you go and fuck that up too like you fuck up everything! Instead of just finding out and following one simple thing, you go and, and just throw it all away on that fat disgusting waste! How stupid could you be?” His uncle admonished throwing his hands in the air.

If Anthony had been seeing red before the room burst like a sunspot with that comment and he lunged across the desk at his uncle, he wanted to strangle him, wanted to rip his heart out and shove it through the pencil sharpener.

His uncle ducked out of the way easily, bored, making Anthony miss and fall on the desk top, his hands stretched toward his uncle. He began to scramble to get up, to reach up and claw his uncle’s smug cruel face off.

His uncle pinned his wrists to the desk and put his face close to Anthony’s, “You are nothing, you have always been nothing, and this proves that you aren’t worth the shit under my shoes. You don’t deserve to be a member of this family, you don’t deserve an ounce of anything in this world. You aren’t worth it.” His uncle hissed and shoved Anthony away from him disgusted. The shove so powerful that Anthony fell backward and landed flat on his back on the floor, hitting his head on the wooden chair on the way down.

He was seeing black, stars were flashing around him, he sat up holding his head, a groan escaping his lips. He shot a look at his uncle to see if he could reach him to strangle him with his own tie. He staggered off of the floor and stood, his legs wobbling beneath him

His uncle had his back turned and holding his hands behind him, laughing to himself. Anthony dove at him again his hands outstretched aiming for his uncle’s neck, he was going to kill him.

His uncle spun around and grabbed Anthony by the neck and pinned him to the desktop. His head cracking against the desk, his sunglasses flailing from his face, the impact of the slam knocking the wind out of him.

His uncle’s nails dug into his flesh, puncturing the skin, he could feel the blood seeping, his pulse thundered under his uncle’s fingers, his throat collapsing under his hand. He felt like his windpipe was shattering, he was struggling to breathe, his hands flailed against his uncle’s grasp, trying to peel his hands away from him. He wheezed, gasping for breath, no oxygen was coming in. The lightheaded feeling increased and he felt like he was floating away.

“The war will be won one way or another,” his uncle hissed in his ear tightening his grip, shoving Anthony further into the desk giving his head a slam.

“Your cousins are stepping up because you couldn’t, they’re going to take care of that fat baker of yours. I have to give them credit, the fake facebook page was their idea, Bee has always been the smart one. But getting you to say that you fucked him just to get the recipe. That was all my idea, I baited you, and you fell for it, like a fool. I recorded it and Bee put the audio on the facebook page, as well as other character admonishing things. It was only a matter of time before someone on his side saw it." He laughed then, a deep laugh that chilled Anthony to the bone. "As if I would ever hold any pride for you. As if I'd ever welcome you to this family." His voice dripping with malice as he whispered in Anthony’s ear.

Anthony struggled against his uncle’s grasp, trying to get the slightest gasp of air through his lips.

His uncle laughed, shoving Anthony’s head against the desk a final time, making his surroundings dark with flashes of light dancing across his vision. He choked on the air that he greedily inhaled, gasping, trying to regain the oxygen that he had lost in the altercation.

Anthony struggled to breathe as his uncle walked toward the door to his office, he couldn’t make his voice work, couldn’t form the words he wanted to scream.

“W-wh-what,” he struggled to get the sound out, the word out, he felt like his throat had collapsed.

“Your cousins always had a proclivity for fire, maybe they’ll find a way to put it to use.” His uncle said glancing over his shoulder to Anthony a malicious smile curling across his lips.

Anthony’s eyes went wide and he staggered to the door, gasping for breath, he had to get to Aziraphale.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony speeds across town from the cafe to the bakery, only to see it engulfed in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this is pretty realistic, I had to Google a lot.

Chapter 30

Anthony staggered down the hallway of the café, slumping against the walls and pushing himself off of them. The hallway seeming longer than it had ever been in his life. He tripped over the mat in front of the door, barely staying upright save for the push bar along the door. He pulled himself up and burst through the door to get out to the Bentley. He started it up and threw the car in reverse until he made it on the road with the quickest route to Aziraphale’s, unfortunately the quickest route was still twenty some minutes away and had a bloody toll booth.

Anthony cursed low and pulled his cell phone out while he sped from the city streets onto the toll booth, he dialed Aziraphale’s cell phone number for it to immediately go to voicemail. He shouted in frustration and called him again, only for the phone to go to voicemail again.

The rising panic Anthony was feeling in his chest was climbing to his throat, clawing it’s way from his ribcage to his windpipe, wrapping around him tightly like a noose.

Anthony took his eyes off the road to tap the proper buttons to do a google voice-to-text and searched the bakery’s main phone line and he called it desperation making his hands shake.

The phone line rang and rang, with no answer and no answering machine to pick it up. Anthony screamed and threw the phone in the back of the Bentley, wanting to desperately teleport to the bakery to make sure Aziraphale was okay. He knew better than to think that his cousins hadn’t set the fire, or that his uncle was just saying that. He knew, knew their history of arson, when he was a kid his cousins would drag him with them as they set things on fire, one time a huge abandoned barn. Thankfully there were no animals or people in it, but it was a big enough building to make the news, they had threatened to tell the police that Anthony was there and threatened that he would go to jail if he told anyone. And the one person he told was his uncle, and his uncle locked him in a closet for hours on end as a result. He shuddered and dipped in front of a car onto the Westminster Bridge cutting them off, nearly hitting the guardrail as he jerked around them.

He took in a deep breath trying to calm his racing heart, he would be no help to Aziraphale if he ended up molded to the rails as he was driving to him. He opened his eyes wide willing them to focus, to find the best route, the best people to speed around and the best execution get him there the quickest.

He absentmindedly reached up and gently touched his neck, it was still throbbing and aching from his uncle, the blood where his nails had punctured, the blood dried in streaks. He shook his head and focused on the road, he could worry about himself later, right now Aziraphale was what he needed to be focusing on.

In his mind he could see flames reaching the sky, Aziraphale’s flat full of books a perfect tinder to keep the flames growing and roaring above the city. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal, hitting 90 miles an hour in a 60 miles per hour zone. He yanked the wheel in either direction to get around the toddling cars on the A4201, he jerked the wheel around an abruptly slowing car in front of him, realizing he made it to the toll booth. He groaned and hit the steering wheel in frustration, he willed for the cars in front of him to get out of the way, willed for them to fling to the side of the road giving him a straight path to the bakery.

But he wasn’t a magical being and the cars stayed where they were. Slowly going through the toll line, some making small talk with the ticket takers. He honked his horn, and he gritted his teeth in frustration wanting to do something to make them go faster.

When he reached the toll he thrust his ticket and a twenty in the hands of the toll booth operator, “Just open the gate!” He shouted desperation clear in his voice even to the startled toll booth woman. Wordlessly she raised the guardrail and Anthony sped through the lane jerking the wheel from side to side, taking a wide turn too quickly until he was on the proper street to make a straight speed of motorway to the bakery. And he could already see the billowing smoke from his distance.

Anthony let out a strangled cry and pressed his foot further down on the gas pedal, the floor solidly beneath it, the engine whining in protest. In all its existence the Bentley hadn’t gone that fast for any reason, but he was grateful that it was cooperating.

There was a hoard of vehicles surrounding the bakery on every side and Anthony laid his horn to get a group of pedestrians to move out of the way until he jerked the gearshift into park and ran out of the car, stumbling as he did so.

His eyes frantically searched the crowd for Aziraphale, the pedestrians looked at him in disdain and concern as he shoved through the crowd until he reached the line of emergency workers. The fire truck there was spraying hoses onto the flames, but otherwise not doing anything, and Anthony felt a strangled sound escape his throat.

Anthony halted and gasped for air, the fire marshal seeing him stepped up to him, “Excuse me sir are you the owner of this establishment?” He asked in a furiatingly calm voice.

“Do I look like I run a bakery? Did the owner get out?” Anthony snarked frantically.

The fire marshal furrowed his brows, “There were no reports of anyone inside, what does he look like?” he asked.

Anthony screeched in frustration, his eyes searching the crowd closest to the bakery, Aziraphale’s blonde curls not among the dark crowd of strangers. Not seeing him he rounded the corner to the side alley recklessly pushing through the crowd, maybe his truck isn’t there, maybe he is out, Anthony’s heart sank further down as he saw Aziraphale’s truck parked where he always kept it.

A panic stricken wail escaped his lips, and he ran to the fire marshal, “He’s in there, his truck is still here, he is inside you have to go get him!” He cried grabbing the marshal by the shoulder, desperation latching to every word as it hoarsely escaped his lips.

“There’s a protocol we have to follow, I’ll radio the chief and see how we’re going to get inside.” The marshal said with a frown.

Anthony snarled and swiveled around and ran, shoving past the crowd, elbowing his way past the spectators of the wreckage, and he barreled to the front entrance to the shop, the black smoke pluming from the back of the building. He wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his long shirt and ripped the door open. A wave of heat bursting out and smoke assaulting all of Anthony’s senses, he fell back coughing violently as he tried to clear his airway of the polluted air. He heaved a breath, doubled over and coughed again, the burning in his eyes dissipating.

“Hey, you can’t go in there!” A voice behind him shouted, the voice a whisper compared to the continuous roar in his head, ‘Find Aziraphale, Find Aziraphale’ a desperate mantra repeating again and again.

He ignored the voice and pulled the collar of his shirt up over his mouth and nose as he ran inside. The smoke and heat assaulted him in a shocking bursting wave. He could hardly see anything through the mixture of smoke and his sunglasses. He threw the sunglasses off, the difference without them barely anything. He didn’t see the flames, but he could feel them pulsating through the air, the walls. He looked around and wasn’t able to see hardly, barely able to make out the display cases and tables that were in the storefront of the bakery. He tried to remember what he learned in primary school about fire safety as he doubled over coughing, the smoke seeping into his throat and burning his lungs. He remembered a brief flash of a stupid song from primary and he ducked lower beneath the smoke. He gasped in a deep breath of slightly clearer air, smoke rises, so long as he stayed low he could do this without inhaling a chimney.

He ducked below the plumes of smoke and hurried past the display cases and searched behind them quickly, he knew that Aziraphale would be upstairs, either unaware of the fire completely or trying to save some of the ancient kindling upstairs. Anthony felt tears springing to his eyes as he breathed in the crackling air, he tentatively touched the door separating the store front and the kitchen.

“Aziraphale?” He shouted, a heaving string of coughs following the plea.

No answer but the crackling and snapping of the air around him, as swiftly as he could he made his way to the back office, the stairs leading to Aziraphale’s flat through that door. As he made his way through the kitchen the air was increasing in heat, he felt as if he were on the verge of submerging into the flames, which he could now see licking the walls of the back entrance from the side alley.

A strangled cry escaped his lips as he realized that if they moved just slightly to the right that they would be blocking the door to the stairs, or using it as a fast pass to the flat.

Anthony’s eyes scanned the kitchen as he attempted to swiftly go through it to the door to the staircase, smoke painting the air like a Pollock piece. He coughed so hard his bones rattled, and his eyes were watering, burning as they smoke grazed him in a violent caress.

He made his way to the back wall and was transfixed by the flames at the door and wall. Fire thrashed back and forth in w wild seductively, the dangerous dance widening it’s path, Anthony could feel the heat radiating from it as it widened and whipped. He watched as it barely licked a coat that was hanging and it consumed it, slowly at first, and then as if it was a ravenous eagle swooping up a small rabbit.

Anthony’s eyes widened in a silent horror and he rushed to the door separating the fire from the flat, the flames from Aziraphale.

As he reached the door the fire surged and popped, flames licking him wrapping him in a mocking half hug, his arm taking the brunt of it.

He cried out, the pain close to being the worst he has ever felt in his life, surpassing the bandstand with Aziraphale by a millimeter. He jumped out of the way and before the fire could attempt to reach him again he flung the door opened and slammed it shut behind him as he clambered up the first four steps.

The heat from the stairway felt like he had been trapped in a chimney that had a fire at the bottom. A thick heavy heat pressed down on him, making him sink to the floor of the stairwell, breathing heavily and trying to keep his mouth and nose covered and keep pressure off of his love tap from the fire. Pulsing waves of heat thrummed in the air like a steady bass, Anthony knew that he had to get up quickly before the flames finally consumed the stairwell, trapping him and Aziraphale inside.

He winced as he made a move to climb the stairs, keeping as low as he could to the ground to keep from inhaling more smoke, keep from being burned again. He hacked and coughed as he staggered up the stairs, finally reaching the top of the stairs, he pushed through the door and fell into the room, being swept in by a wave of smoke.

“Aziraphale!” He cried, the exhaling scream making him stagger with hacking coughs.

“Aziraphaaale!” He shouted staggering through the flat, past the tables of the front room and bookcases.

He gripped the edges of the ancient sofa and used it as a guide to the bedroom, the smoke dark and heavy, making the room full of malicious danger.

He fell through the door of the bedroom and looked around frantically, his eyes burning with tears running down his cheeks pulled the collar of his shirt tighter over his nose and mouth, “Where the heaven are you you idiot?” He hissed as coughs exploded from him, making him wheeze and shake with each amount of breath he inhaled or exhaled. The coughs racking through him making him lose his balance and fall onto his knees. 

He quickly crawled throughout the bedroom and bathroom, and seeing that Aziraphale wasn’t in there either he felt a mix of immense relief and horror shiver through him, if Aziraphale wasn’t up here and he didn’t see him downstairs, then where was he? Was he so focused on getting upstairs that he overlooked a part of the downstairs and missed Aziraphale? He had to be here somewhere, his truck was here, he had to be here, he had to be here somewhere.

“Aziraphale! I can’t find you!” a whimper cut through his weak shouts as another kind of tears prickled his eyes, mixing with the ones the smoke was causing.

Anthony spun around, losing his balance and falling against the boiling wall, and he used it as a guide to get out of the bedroom. The further he got out of the bedroom the hotter the walls around him became, and he felt like he was suffocating. He gasped through the shirt for air, everything he was breathing in was thick and heavy, a toxic cloud filling his lungs. He hacked a cough and staggered to the door of the flat, and reached to open it, the door knob burning his hand. He yelped and yanked his hand away from the knob, scorching pain radiating through the palm of his hand. He bit his bottom lip and grabbed a handful of his shirt, using it as a protective layer he turned the door knob, and any oxygen that was in his lungs whooshed out as he saw the flames below, now close on his tail rising up the staircase slowly, menacingly.

He ducked low, coughing and hacking, his body shuddering as he breathed in the heated smoke, even the small filter from his shirt didn’t seem to be helping anymore. He felt a heaviness seep into his mind, into his chest, and he coughed, the coughing seeping him of all the energy in his body.

His thoughts were getting as foggy and dark as the air around him, he slid down the wall, sitting at the top of the stairs, wheezing, gasping. He leaned to the side; he couldn’t hold himself up anymore, his head banging against the floor of the steps. The hardness of it startling him, making him stir slightly. He wheezed and breathed in a raspy bought of air, clearer air than he had been inhaling before. The air was clearing his mind just the smallest bit, and he swore he could see Aziraphale in front of him, glowing a shining shimmering gold, as angelic as he had ever looked.

“Aziraphale?” He rasped, his hand reaching up to touch the vision before him.

Aziraphale only smiled sadly, and then began to dissipate into the smoke around him. Anthony whimpered and grasped the air where Aziraphale had been.

“Aziraphale for God’s,” He hesitated, coughs shuddering through him, “Fuck, for Satan’s,” he wheezed and rattling coughs seared his dry throat.

“For somebody’s sake where are you?” he sighed into the black swirling smoke around him, about to envelope him.

He grunted and he began to slowly and carefully pull himself down the stairs, half crawling, half sliding, the flames beginning to lick the walls at the very bottom of the staircase. The air that was lower was clearer, but still full of hot smoking air.

Anthony assessed the bottom of the stairs as he got closer and closer, his vision becoming hazier as he did so. There was a small opening that he was certain he could make it through without too much of an injury.

As he got closer and closer to the stairs at the upmost bottom of the stairs he pulled himself into a crouch, looking at the state of the flames around him. He inhaled a deep breath and jumped the last three steps and arched over the flames that were painting the walls and stairs a deep fatal sunset.

He barely made it over the flames, but as he cleared them he collapsed in a heap in the downstairs office, he whipped his gaze around the room, whimpering as he realized he may have made a mistake coming back downstairs. There were flames roaring overhead, along the walls, stretching into the walkways of the room.

He inhaled sharply, hacking and shuddering as he did so, and he pulled himself along the floor where the flames were absent. He wheezed and coughed as he crawled his way into the kitchen. The flames had barely reached the kitchen, but the smoke was thick and heavy.

He pulled himself up using the island counter and looked around the room, hacking, shuddering, coughing, the heat radiating around him like a bioluminescent chamber. He felt his way along the kitchen island and looked all around the kitchen as well as he could, still not seeing Aziraphale anywhere.

His hand hit something solid laying on the countertop and he instinctively wrapped a hand around it, carrying it with him. He staggered from the kitchen to the storefront, the swinging door waving flames and smoke into his face. He coughed and hacked, shaking and shuddering.

“Aziraphale!” He rasped, his throat lined with smoke, tightening around him.

“I can’t find you.” He whimpered, coughing, tears welling in his eyes, a mixture of sorrow, failure, smoke and heat.

He stumbled as his gaze tore across the area behind the counters, flames licking the walls, smoke filling the air.  
He coughed and hacked, tears burning his eyes as he felt along the counter to the other side, his other hand clutching what he had grabbed from the island using it as a detector in the air around him.

“You’ve gone.” He moaned as he realized the smoke was too thick, the flames too hot.

Suddenly a powerful gush of water burst through the front windows, hitting Anthony directly in the chest, knocking him back into the flame licked walls, the wind getting knocked out of him, coughs rasping through him, making him shudder on his back, his insides twisting and withering.

“Somebody killed my best friend.” The quiet wail that escaped his lips as he tried to breathe only to have his lungs engulfed in heat, smoke, flame. He gasped trying to catch his breath, what little breath he could absorb from the air.

“Bastards! All of you!” He rasped the words dragging across his dry cracked lips, his body shuddering as the last of the oxygen escaped his lungs.

He wheezed, trying to cough, trying to get some clean air in his lungs, to get the energy to drag himself further into the storefront to check for Aziraphale there.

His wheezes deepened, the air around him darkening even more, he closed his eyes for a moment as the darkness swirled around him.

Aziraphale saw the crowd in front of the shop and hurried through the pedestrians.

“Excuse me, excuse me, this is my shop, please.” He pushed his way through the crowd once he realized that no one was going to move.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw that the bakery was engulfed in flames.

“Excuse me!” He shouted reaching the fire marshal who was directing a group of firemen.

“Sir?” The fire marshal asked, his voice frazzled.

“This is my shop, what’s happening?” Aziraphale asked his voice bordering on frantic.

“Your shop? Then who was the bloke who ran inside talking about?” He asked incredulously.

Aziraphale felt ice replace the blood in his veins and all the air escape him.

“E-excuse me?” He asked looking from the fire marshal to the flaming building in front of him.

“A red headed bloke ran inside, screaming that the owner was inside. He wouldn’t stop when I explained the proper protocol and he ran inside, assuming to search for you then if you are the one who was supposed to be inside.” He explained his face stricken white as a sheet.

“Has he come out yet?” Aziraphale asked his gaze whipping from the bakery to the fire marshal.

“No, and he’s been in there a long time, we’ve been trying to keep the fire from spreading, trying to kill it. I have a team along the alley way spraying it down, the team was about to- hey stop!” He cried reaching a hand out to grasp the shoulder of the man running toward the flaming building.

Aziraphale jerked his shoulder away from the fire marshal and ran toward the bakery, praying under his breath, he reached the entry door just as the roof collapsed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst.

Chapter 31

Aziraphale jumped back, turning his face and bringing his arm up to block the smoke and debris from making their way into his lungs, the slight blockage didn’t help, and he began to cough, his body shuddering from the reflexive heaves it contorted to expel the smoke.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and turned his face toward the burning wreckage before him. The fire was illuminating the skeletal frame of the shop, the bare bone ancient frame of bricks standing like a dark omen among the inferno, the bright flames reaching skyward, licking the atmosphere desiring more to taste to consume. The black smoke coating the flames rolled skyward, finding freedom in the otherwise clear skies. The brittle structure that was still standing was crackling and waiting to splinter and collapse like the roof had.

Aziraphale had only one thought going through his head, he didn’t think of his home, his books, his grandfather’s bakery, all he could think of was Anthony.

Aziraphale took a last breath of clean air and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, he unfurled it and covered his nose and mouth, tying it behind his neck, and he plunged into the flaming wreckage.

The heat of the flames and crackling air rolled over him slowly, making him feel like he had heavy stones on his chest. Aziraphale wheezed a cough as he carefully stepped through the wreckage of the store front. His body was coiled tightly tense with urgency, he had to find Anthony before they both were either burned by the fire or asphyxiated by the smoke, but he also had to be careful of where he stepped, where he ventured, he didn’t want to be trapped without finding Anthony, making this effort futile.

“Anthony!” He called out through a succession of coughs.

He listened carefully, trying to hear past the crackling fire, the wood splintering, the building groaning, he didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean that Anthony wasn’t down there. And there was no longer an upstairs to search in.

Aziraphale ducked as low as he could under the smoke in the air, it was so thick he couldn’t see anything, his eyes were watering and burning. The air around him sizzling, hissing, spitting warnings.

“Anthony! If you can hear me,” Aziraphale shouted as loud as he could, not able to shout all he wanted to get out before the smoke overtook him, filling him up and squeezing him to the point of stabbing intensity. He hacked a series of coughs, his body shuddering, he felt a rising sense of panic climbing in his throat as he edged through the flaming remnants of the shop, he had barely made it past what used to be the part of the store front, and he was running out of time.

He could feel the waves of the fire growing and he could see them climbing the walls, swirling around him, the smoke billowing and growing darker, more foreboding.

Aziraphale kept making his way carefully through the store front his feet trepidatiously searching the once familiar walking area, where customers used to gather waiting in line, which was now nothing more than charred beams and rubble. Aziraphale saw some books from upstairs that had fallen and they were on the borders of the flames, before he could blink they were burnt up as if challenged by their existence and survival from falling with the collapsed roof.

Aziraphale crouched down coughing as his foot hit something solid, reaching the area where the damage from the collapse had landed. The outer edges of the building were beginning to crumble around him the flames reaching greater heights, the smoke charring his lungs. The smoke filling his nose, his mouth, his throat, his coughs rocking through him so hard he fell to his knees gasping for air. His hand grasped for support to keep him from succumbing to the smoke, fire and ash in the air.

As coughs racked him he supported his weight on the beam as he wheezed trying to catch his breathe.

“Az,” A weak voice followed by deep heavy coughs came from the rubble and beam next to him.

“A-An-Anthony?!” Aziraphale gasped coughing through the syllables.

“Az-Azira,” hacking coughs followed as well as painful groaning.

His voice was coming up from the floor, not able to pinpoint an exact location Aziraphale frantically felt along the beam, trying to see through the thick smoke to find out where Anthony was.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale wheezed out as loudly as he could.

“’M here.” A weak voice sounded from down below, muffled, weak, scared.

“Anthony, where are you?” Aziraphale shouted still feeling around the rubble desperately trying to locate where Anthony’s voice was coming from.

“Here.” Anthony coughed out smoke vice gripping him tightly.

Aziraphale ducked down to the clear air and gasped trying to catch his breath, heaving coughs making him shudder and shake. His eyes burned as he willed them to open so he could see Anthony, so he could find him.

The smoke and ash burning his eyes to the point of tears, he desperately looked around trying to find Anthony. Hacking and coughing and crying as he felt around the pile of rubbish to find him.

His hand brushed something soft, and he gripped it tightly, “Anthony?” Aziraphale wheezed hoping that he had found him.

“Angel.” Anthony whimpered; he could feel Aziraphale’s hand on his shirt sleeve.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale cried falling to his knees and feeling up Anthony’s arm to find out where he was exactly amongst the flames and rubble.

Anthony felt a relief as Aziraphale’s hand grasped at his arm climbing up his shoulder and to his face.

“Angel, I was afraid-“Anthony began coughing, a heavy solidness pinning him to the ground, the smoke was thick and pressing down on him.

“Oh Anthony, what were you thinking running in here?” Aziraphale admonished as he felt the beams that were trapping Anthony to the ground.

“I was thinking,” Anthony wheezed, coughs shuddering through him, “I thought, that you were inside.” He chuckled, pain stabbing through his ribs.

“Even if I was, you shouldn’t have come running in here.” Aziraphale scolded coughing and hacking as he did so.

“You did.” Anthony wheezed.

Aziraphale felt the coughs grip his sides and shake his lungs as he hacked on the smoke that was rolling in his chest.

“Try to-try to keep your eyes closed, I’m going to try and move this off you.” Aziraphale struggled to say through the wheezing coughs as he let go of Anthony’s arm and reached up to grip the beam on top of him with both hands.

Anthony made a noise of protest but closed his eyes tightly and tried to not whimper as Aziraphale struggled to move the beam.

Aziraphale gritted his teeth and groaned as he pushed the beam away from Anthony, some ash and debris shuffling down from the top of the collapsed pile on top of him.

Anthony couldn’t hold back a scream of pain as something sharp scraped across his leg.

Aziraphale whimpered and continued to push the beam and debris away until there was enough room for Anthony to move out from.

“Anthony can you move?” Aziraphale asked coughing and crouching next to him on the floor.

Anthony winced and tried to move, a sharp pain going through his leg, his lungs were so full of smoke he felt like a dragon breathing it into the shop, letting it mix with the billowing black clouds around them. His arm was aching, “I can’t,” He coughed, “I can’t move.” Anthony whimpered weakly.

Aziraphale felt his body shuddering, fear consumed him as he realized that Anthony really couldn’t move, that the fire was not getting contained as fast as it needed to be, and that he was slowly suffocating. And if he was suffocating Anthony was ten times as much because he had been inside longer.

“A-Az-Azi- Angel,” Anthony rasped, a hand reaching up blindly for Aziraphale.

“Anthony, we are going to get out of here.” Aziraphale coughed gripping Anthony’s hand tightly in his own, crouching close to his face.

“Angel- you get out- you won’t be able to make it out if you have to carry me.” Anthony wheezed, shaking from the smoke in his lungs, feeling like he had anvils on his chest compressing him to the ancient floors.

“Don’t you dare.” Aziraphale choked out struggling to get the words out as tears welled in his eyes less from the smoke and fire more from Anthony’s words.

“Don’t you dare say such things. I am not leaving you here.” Aziraphale said firmly through wheezes.

“Angel, so stubborn.” Anthony laughed weakly, a cough rasping through his chest.

Aziraphale smiled weakly, he looked at Anthony and took a deep breath, “Anthony, I’m going to take your hands, and I’m going to pull you out the rest of the way. Then we are going to get out of here, together.” Aziraphale wheezed firmly, his voice shaking, his grip wavering.

Anthony nodded and held his hands up as Aziraphale slowly rose from the ground, keeping his head low to breathe in the cleanest air he could.

He gripped Anthony’s hands and pulled back trying to slide him from underneath the debris, Anthony screamed weakly, a hacking cough breaking it up from a haunted sound. He could feel a slice of fire going through his leg, an ache pounding in his ribcage, feel a burning pain on his arm.

Aziraphale pulled Anthony far back enough that he was no longer under the beam and he felt lightheaded. He looked down at Anthony who was gasping and wheezing trying to breathe, and he realized that he had been right. He wouldn’t be able to carry him out, and he could hardly stay upright on his own.

Aziraphale shook as coughs reverberated through him and he doubled over, his hands on his knees, coughing and wheezing. Anthony winced at how hard he could hear Aziraphale coughing and his hand felt on the ground where he had been dragged from.

Aziraphale let his hands go back and he slid to the ground next to Anthony, he lied next to him on the ground and looked at him, trying to ignore the raging inferno around them.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked, his voice shuddering.

“I can’t leave you.” Aziraphale said firmly, his hand reaching for Anthony’s.

Anthony shuddered, “Aziraphale,” He rasped, the word coming out thick over his cracked dry lips.

Aziraphale squeezed Anthony’s hand and shook his head, a couple tears escaping his eyes.

Anthony let out a choked cry, and he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand tightly in his, he brought it up to his lips and placed a dry cracked kiss on the dimpled knuckles that he loved.

Aziraphale gave a weak smile and then began coughing so hard he saw stars. He and Anthony coughed and wheezed as the dark smoke swirled around them, and the heat from the flames began to lick their skin, announcing the impending arrival of the fire.

Then, everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Don't worry there's more to come!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to post this today with that last chapter *phew*

“This is your discharge packet, it will have your prescriptions to give to the pharmacist, a summary of your vitals here, a summary of the doctor’s notes, information on the conditions the doctors diagnosed you with. Do you have your belongings together?” The friendly nurse asked glancing up from the manilla packet in her hand to Aziraphale.

He felt a twinge of pain as he glanced at the sad remains of his life, a cell phone, a wallet, keys to his truck and shop, toiletries and clothes that the Salvation Army had brought him when he had woken up at Saint Thomas’ Hospital Accident and Emergency. The nurse that he was talking with had been kind enough to get him a charger for his phone.

“Yes, unfortunately my life could all just fit in my pockets now.” He said with a sigh.

“Well, a part of your life I believe, is in the next room over, and since you’re being discharged now you can see him.” The nurse said with a raised eyebrow.

Aziraphale smiled brightly and rose from the hospital bed grabbing his things and shoving them in any pocket he could.

The nurse laughed and handed him the papers as well as a pen and he signed the line where he was supposed to on each copy, and then followed her out of his room and to Anthony’s room.

He felt an ache in his heart when he saw Anthony, lying in the bed looking so small and frail. He had oxygen tubing in his nose, one leg in a cast, his left arm, hand, and part of his torso wrapped in bright white bandages. His eyes were covered by plastic lenses taped to his skin.

“Oh, I didn’t realize his injuries were so extensive.” Aziraphale murmured turning to the nurse sadness oozing out of each word.

“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger,” A weak voice replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale exclaimed rushing to his bedside, surprised that he was awake.

Anthony chuckled, the chuckle turning into a dry cough that made Aziraphale wince.

He approached Anthony, reaching a hand out to gently touch an area of his chest that wasn’t bandaged, Anthony felt Aziraphale’s arm, his hand going up to the collar of his shirt and pulled him downward, crushing his lips against his own, smiling.

Aziraphale desperately wanted to caress and touch Anthony but was afraid of hurting him. When they broke for air Aziraphale was beaming, a perfect twin expression of Anthony’s smile.

“How bad is it angel?” Anthony croaked, his eyebrows tilting upwards in the middle.

“Well you look pretty banged up, I’m not sure what all is wrong exactly.” Aziraphale said sheepishly turning to the nurse.

“Mr. Crowley, you have a broken tibia, second degree and third degree burns on forty five percent of your upper body, you are on oxygen due to still recovering from all the smoke inhalation, your oxygen saturation level is ranging in the seventies and eighties. You have severe smoke damage to your respiratory system, mainly your nasal passage and pharynx. It looks like you had some previous damages to your larynx and throat as well as what happened in the fire. You also had some damages from the prolonged smoke exposure to your corneas and scleras which is why they are covered. But that should be able to come off now.” The nurse rattled all this information off to the pair of them, Anthony’s head cocked to the side and Aziraphale’s eyes welling with tears as he heard all the damages that Anthony’s body had taken in the fire.

Aziraphale watched as the nurse went to the side of Anthony’s bed and donned a pair of gloves, “I’m going to remove the eye pieces now, you’ll feel some tugging from the tape.” She explained so not to frighten him.

Aziraphale watched the nurse carefully remove the plastic coverings over Anthony’s eyes, “Don’t look directly into any lights, and you’ll need two different prescriptions, drops and gel four times a day for several months.” She instructed as the tossed the plastic pieces in the trash with one hand and grabbed the eyedrops from the table next to Anthony.

“Ready, one, two, three.” She counted and then squeezed the dropper letting several drops of the medication fall into Anthony’s eyes.

He blinked a couple of times and then looked up, the nurse smiled at him and then headed toward Aziraphale, “I’ll leave you two to some privacy, if either of you need anything press the call light button.” She instructed to Aziraphale before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Aziraphale immediately went to Anthony’s bedside and pulled a chair with him, he sat down gingerly, gently taking Anthony’s hand in his.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale and smiled wearily, “Angel, she just told me not to look directly into lights, and you are blinding me with that angelic glow you have.” He said his voice gravelly.

Aziraphale chuckled, giving Anthony’s hand a squeeze his eyes gazing over Anthony’s face, his eyes still the beautiful golden hue, but the sclera were a deep red, and his eyes were swollen.

“I must look a sight huh?” Anthony asked chuckling trying to sit up in the bed.

“Best sight I’ve ever seen after what happened.” Aziraphale responded, the tone of his voice profound.

“I’ll give you that.” Anthony said with a chuckle.

They didn’t say anything for several moments, just taking in the sight of each other.

“Aziraphale,” Anthony started.

Aziraphale held up his hand, “No, you don’t,”

Anthony cut him off, “No, I do, I have to.” He said, his voice hoarse.

Aziraphale frowned and then when the determined look in Anthony’s eyes didn’t go away he nodded solemnly and sat back in his chair and waited.

Anthony took a deep breath and gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze, “My mum died when I was a kid, her brother, was Stanley DeVille, just before she died she begged him to take me in so I would be around family. She didn’t know how bad of an idea that would end up being. After my mom died I went to live with him, and he made my life hell. He and my cousins would torment me, keep me from eating, they were all very cold, didn’t show any ounce of caring toward me. Always said I was a mutt because my mum had me out of wedlock with a man who didn’t stick around.”

Anthony paused taking in a deep breath, “When I got older my uncle found some use for me, and it was working in the café, I baked, I decorated cakes, I did all sorts of things. While growing up I did anything for a shred of attention and caring from him, but it always came with a price. Now as an adult, I mean, you know how he is with the other businesses here in town, he’s that same way with everyone. He’s got people under him doing his bidding on a whim. My landlord for example, my uncle several times told him that I had been fired, or that I had bad spending habits and that I wouldn’t have rent. My landlord nearly kicked me out those times, only for my uncle to swoop in at the last minute to vouch for me keeping me under a roof.” He paused a moment to catch his breath.

“No one else would rent to me, either by orders of my uncle, and I tried tons of different places. And no one else would hire me, again by orders of my uncle. He also had keys to my apartment and could come and go as he wanted. Which was always an anxiety inducing joy ride.” He took a deep breath and looked at Aziraphale, his eyes going glassy.

“The day we met, he had given me a “special task” of going to your bakery, the bakery of the enemy, the other side, and find out what entry you were doing for the Cake and Bake Competition, as well as secret ingredients, also try to sabotage you along the way. But that day,” He raised is hand up to Aziraphale’s face and traced his cheek with his fingertips.

“That day, the moment I saw the blue of your eyes, the gold of your hair, the absolute beauty that was you, the moment I saw you. I was a goner.” He murmured his lips trembling.

Aziraphale smiled, his eyes watering and a tear rolling down his cheek

“This whole time, everything was real. Every thing.” Anthony whispered fiercely pulling Aziraphale closer to him, gently pressing his forehead to his.

“I am so sorry, so sorry angel. I never meant to hurt you.” Tears started flowing down Anthony’s face and sobs shook him from the inside out.

Aziraphale could no longer hold back his tears and he let them flow freely down his cheeks.

“And I tried, god I tried so many times to tell you, I could never figure out the best timing, I was so afraid that you’d hate me, that you’d never speak to me again.” Anthony wailed softly, pausing to gasp in air.

“It’s okay dear, take deep breaths, through your nose so the oxygen can help you.” Aziraphale whimpered worry seeping into his voice.

Anthony stopped a moment to take in slow deep breaths in through his nose, the oxygen filling his nose with clean air, almost sharp with how strong the settings were.

When Anthony was calmer Aziraphale nodded for him to continue, “I wanted to tell you, and I even did, we were in bed together, and I told you. I didn’t know you had fallen asleep and didn’t hear a bloody word of it.” Anthony said with a laugh.

Aziraphale chuckled through the tears that were streaming down his face.

“Then your fucking uncle had to go and open his fucking mouth and tell you in the worst possible way. I swear angel, that Facebook page, it wasn’t even mine, I found out my cousin set it up along with that audio clip.” Anthony inhaled sharply, “I-I did say those things to my uncle, but they were not true at all, I only said them because they kept threatening that they would hurt you. And saying those things, I thought it would make you safe. I would have sold my soul to the devil himself to keep them away from you, to keep you safe.” Anthony said fiercely gripping Aziraphale tightly.

Aziraphale felt pangs of pain in his heart, “Anthony,” He started.

“They were the ones who started the fire, I was at the café confronting my uncle when he not only gave me an ass kicking that probably gave me a concussion and a brain bleed, when he told me that my cousins were going to the bakery and he alluded that they would be using their pyro talents to get you to stay out of the contest.” Anthony blurted out, he had to get all of this out, had to confess all of the bad, all of the sins, had to make it all right.

“Then, then I get to the bakery, only it’s too late and the fire is already raging, and I thought you, I thought you were inside, I thought I had lost you.” Anthony’s face broke down and tears streamed down his face, as he inhaled a sharp sob.

“Shh shh shh,” Aziraphale moved closer to Anthony to hold him closer, soothing him, gently caressing his arm.

“You didn’t lose me, and I didn’t lose you. It’s all okay, it’s all okay.” Aziraphale murmured gently into Anthony’s hair.

They sat like that for a time, crying into each other’s arms and Anthony breathing sharply through the oxygen tubing.

Anthony took in a sharp shuddering breath, “Can you ever forgive me?” He whispered; he was afraid of the answer that he might hear, he was afraid that the love of his life was going to slip through his fingers.

Aziraphale looked him in the eye carefully, his blue eyes searching Anthony’s face, “There’s nothing to forgive,” Aziraphale said fiercely, enunciating every word he uttered, “I know that you are not a cruel man, and I know that you were in an impossible situation with your family, which I can very easily understand with my own family, maybe not to the extent of yours.” Aziraphale smiled grimly.

Anthony began to sob even harder burying his face into Aziraphale’s chest as he held him closely, running his fingers through his hair.

Once Anthony was able to breath properly again he pulled away from Aziraphale, “Angel,” he started.

“Hmm?” Aziraphale murmured.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Anthony asked with a chuckle.

Aziraphale looked down at himself laughing at the unexpected question, “It was what the Salvation Army brought by after the fire. They brought us both an outfit to wear, but unfortunately the clothes they had in my size were few and far between. Don’t you like it? I was thinking about adopting it as my new style.” Aziraphale laughed giving Anthony a silly pose.

Anthony fell back onto the bed in a fit of laughter, the clothing Aziraphale was wearing resembled peak 80s fashion, MC Hammer pants with zigzags all over it, and a neon pink windbreaker with a yellow neon shirt underneath.

“You look gorgeous in anything angel.” Anthony murmured reaching for Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale pulled the chair he was sitting in closer to Anthony’s bedside and laced his fingers through Anthony’s, leaned his head gingerly against his shoulder.

They sat like that until they both fell asleep, promises of “I love you” on their lips.

Aziraphale woke to his cell phone chiming loudly, he quickly answered it to keep it from waking Anthony up.

“Hello?” He asked hesitantly.

“Aziraphale, I heard about the bakery, what in the hell happened? How could you let this happen? How could you let the family legacy literally burst into flames?” His uncle’s voice came over the line shouting angrily.

Aziraphale took in a deep breath to explain what happened, as he did his gaze flitted to Anthony who was sleeping peacefully in his sleep. Aziraphale decided against it and he shut his flip phone. Once his uncle’s call was off the screen he flipped through the Contacts on the phone looking for a number in particular.

“Hello Mrs. Willoughby, this is Aziraphale Eden,” He said when she answered the phone.

“Oh Aziraphale, I saw the news, in fact I saw the bakery when I passed through town today, I am so sorry to hear about it. Are you alright dear?” She asked her voice nearing frantic.

“I am much better now, thank you for asking, I wanted to check with you and make sure that it would be covered under my policy?” Aziraphale asked gently.

“Yes, yes dear, everything will be taken care of don’t you worry, you rest up and we can discuss everything when you’re in tiptop shape.” Mrs. Willoughby said quickly.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said hanging up the phone.

“Who was that angel?” Anthony murmured, half awake.

“My insurance agent, I wanted to be sure that the fire would be covered.” Aziraphale said quietly trying to lull Anthony back to sleep.

“Oh, that’s good,” Anthony murmured, nuzzling his face into Aziraphale’s chest.

“Yes, I’m sure she’ll find a way in the policy to set me up in a hotel room until other arrangements can be made.” Aziraphale said his voice soft, forlorn.

“You can stay at my place, if you like.” Anthony murmured into Aziraphale’s chest, his eyes heavy lidded, searching Aziraphale’s face, worried that he may be going too fast after everything they had just been through the last couple of weeks, especially the last couple of days.

“I,” Aziraphale paused a moment, “I don’t think my side would like that very much,” Aziraphale said hesitantly, saying the first thing that popped into his head, not thinking it through.

“You don’t have a side anymore, neither of us do.” Anthony mumbled into Aziraphale’s chest his voice tinged with sadness.

Aziraphale stopped and thought a moment, looking at Anthony, the finality and deep tone of his words surprising Aziraphale.

“We’re on our own side.” He murmured, his lips pulling into a smile his eyes heavy lidded half open, gazing up at Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened as he looked down at Anthony’s face, and he reached a hand up and caressed the side of his face, his lips pulling into a smile. Anthony looked up at Aziraphale until his eyelids grew heavier until they closed, and he began to snore gently into Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale traced Anthony’s beautiful face until his own eyelids grew heavy.

“We’re on our own side.” Aziraphale murmured as he faded off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you it'd get better and they'd be together!


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fire and Anthony gets discharged from the hospital. Then Anthony and Aziraphale have to face their families.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry it took so long to post a new chapter!  
> My schedule at work changed and for some reason my brain wont let me write at home.   
> But here it is!!

Chapter 33

“What time do I get to get out of this bloody place?” Anthony griped.

“Dear you really should be enjoying your time here, people here to wait on you hand and foot and tend to your every need. Once you get out of here, if you’re half as whiny, I’ll have to throw you out to the streets and hope the stray cats will assist you.” Aziraphale chided with a smirk.

“Oh, har har, so funny, you positively have me in stitches.” Anthony snarked rolling his eyes at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale laughed at Anthony and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“It shouldn’t be much longer dearest, maybe a few hours.” Aziraphale said patting Anthony on the non-broken knee.

Anthony pouted but leaned back and tried to relax, he was ready to be out of the hospital. He felt like it had been forever since he had been admitted.

“Can you think of anything that you’d need at your flat that I can go fetch before you’re dismissed? I don’t like the idea of you getting discharged and then me leaving you home alone to go on a silly errand.” Aziraphale said biting his lower lip.

“Anything we’d need,” Anthony corrected, “And probably just some food, I really can’t think of anything else. What’s there is probably expired by now.” Anthony muttered.

Aziraphale’s mobile rang at that moment, shrill on the countertop next to him. He was expecting a call from Mrs. Willoughby, but it was Gabriel’s contact information popping up on the screen. He sighed heavily and ignored the call.

“Was that Uncle Arsehole?” Anthony asked, one auburn eyebrow cocked up.

Aziraphale chuckled, “Yes that was him, I don’t wish to speak to him right at this moment. Now, what all foods would you like me to pick up and stock the flat with? I’ll run to the market and bring things to the flat then come back.”

Anthony thought for a moment, “Honestly anything that isn’t jello, mashed potatoes, or scrambled eggs sounds amazing.” He said with a laugh.

Aziraphale smiled and came over, giving Anthony another kiss, “I’ll be back soon.” He promised, resting a large plump hand over Anthony’s thin ones that were wringing without him realizing it.

“Take the Bentley if you’d like, it’s probably still parked at the shop.” Anthony handed him the car keys with a grimace.

“Actually, I had it towed to your flat already as well as my truck, I knew that neither of us had been able to retrieve it, and I, I’m not ready to see the shop. Not yet.” Aziraphale admitted, his voice shaking slightly.

It was Anthony’s turn to hold Aziraphale’s hand in his, “Hey,” He murmured looking up at Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s eyes met his and they crinkled at the sides.

“It’s okay, we’re okay. There’s no rush to going to the shop.” Anthony soothed Aziraphale, reaching up and cupping his face in his hand.

Aziraphale nodded solemnly, knowing that he would have to go to the shop sooner or later, see if anything made it through the fire, see if he could gather anything from his life in the ashes of his childhood.

“Mr. Eden? Mr. Crowley?” A gentle voice came from the doorway with a knock.

Aziraphale turned to see one of the nurse’s aides, Sasha standing at the door.

“Hello Sasha, dear, how can we help you?” Aziraphale asked with a warm smile. Sasha was one of his favorite nurse aides that worked with Anthony, she was always so sweet and gentle.

“Just needing to get Mr. Crowley’s vitals for the morning.” She said bringing in the tools she needed, she came around Aziraphale and strapped the sphygmomanometer around Anthony’s upper arm.

“Your hijab is beautiful Sasha, that blue really brings out your eyes. Makes them look like sparkling axinite jewels.” Aziraphale said warmly.

Sasha’s brown eyes crinkled at the side with a smile, she turned to Anthony, “Does he do that often to get his way? Compliment you until you’re smitten with any request?” she asked with a teasing grin.

Anthony barked a laugh, “You have no idea.” He replied, his golden eyes looking up at Aziraphale.

“Well dearest, I’ll head to the market and I’ll be back soon. Everything tickety boo?” Aziraphale asked, wanting to make sure everything was alright with Anthony before he departed.

“Yes, yes tickety boo, go along, I’m in good hands here.” He said glancing at Sasha with a grin.

“Mr. Eden, don’t forget.” Sasha said with a raised eyebrow.

Aziraphale nodded with a secret smile aimed at Sasha, then leaned to Anthony and gave him a kiss before he grabbed his mobile and left Anthony’s hospital room to go downstairs and wait for the Uber that Anthony had ordered for him.

When the Uber arrived Aziraphale instructed him to go to Eden Farms before going to the market. He felt a knot coil in his belly, and his heartbeat quicken, he had been avoiding answering his uncle’s calls since that first day he had received one in the hospital. He was not in any place at the time to speak with his uncle, especially with how he was placing all the blame on Aziraphale for the fire.

“Here you are sir, I’ll wait out here for you.” The driver said parking along the drive to Eden Farms.

Aziraphale nodded and hefted himself out of the low setting car. He straightened out his though warm, hideous sweater that the Salvation Army had given him, the clashing purple, turquoise, orange, and red stripes running zigzag along it did nothing for his demeanor.

He walked up to the store front of the farm, his chin was tilted back, and his gaze was straight ahead. His hands reaching to straighten his sweater again, then dropping to his sides and clenching them into fists. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wanting to keep his cool while he was here with his family.

“Aziraphale,” His Aunt Uriel greeted simply with one cocked ebony eyebrow from her place behind the cash register.

“Aunt Uriel.” He said with a nod, his voice wavering slightly.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her question flat her eyes.

“I wanted to pick up some produce, seems my supply ran short much more quickly than usual.” He said with a forced morbid chuckle, his voice having a slightly malicious tone to it.

“Right.” Uriel nodded and went back to her calculations and budgeting for the week.

Aziraphale waited for more, anything more from her, but when she continued to be silent, he sighed softly and grabbed a buggy. He wanted to stock up as much as he could so he wouldn’t have to leave Anthony home along often.

He began loading his buggy with various fruits and vegetables, his heart ached, his first thoughts picking out the produce was ‘Oh I could bake this kind of pie, I could make these tartlets,’ and then a flash of remembrance would shake him back to the present. He didn’t have his kitchen anymore, he couldn’t bake anymore, couldn’t see customers happy while eating a bite out of a cookie. He felt moisture coming to his eyes and he sniffled, trying to regain his serenity in the moment. He didn’t want to feel this way, not here, not now, he could mourn later when he was in a safer place to.

Once he filled his buggy with fruits and vegetables of every kind, as well as several jars of honey, jams, and sauces he pushed it to where his aunt sat behind the register.

“How are you planning to pay today Aziraphale?” She asked before ringing anything up.

Aziraphale was taken aback, but just for a moment.

“Well, I assumed that I would be able to charge it to my usual account.” He stated, willing his voice to not waver as he replied to his aunt.

“I don’t know why you would assume that, since the bakery is no longer standing.” She stated simply, no hint of emotion on her face or in her voice.

Aziraphale stood there a moment, wanting to scream, but he took a deep breath, “And if I plan to use a kitchen elsewhere to continue baking? Would that count as a chargeable bill?” He asked calmly.

His aunt shook her head slowly from side to side, her brown eyes maintaining contact with Aziraphale’s.

“Well then I will use these that the Red Cross gave me a spot of money to use for necessities while I am put out.” He pulled out his wallet which held a little stack of vouchers to use at stores for food, they were very similar to checks the government gave to women who were pregnant or that had young children. They were eligible to use in any establishment that sold primarily food, and it was illegal to refuse them since they were only given to people who were in dire straits.

He waited, looking at his aunt, waiting for her to start ringing him up. Her eyes flickered to the amount of produce he had gotten and back to the register. She shrugged slightly and began to ring him up, placing the fruits and vegetables in bags.

He waited until the end of the transaction and handed her a couple of the vouchers to add up to the total of the order. She took them and handed him a receipt, then he took the buggy full of bags and went to load them into the boot of the Uber.

As he brought the buggy back inside the store front, he noticed his uncle Gabriel standing at the register with his aunt Uriel, he was looking at the vouchers that she had taken from him, his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Hello uncle.” Aziraphale greeted calmly, returning the buggy to the holder.

“Aziraphale what are these?” His uncle asked waving the vouchers at him.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “They are vouchers from the Red Cross to use on food and other necessities. As it says on the top left-hand corner of the vouchers if you look carefully.” His voice even and unflinching, he pointed at the stamped area of the papers.

Gabriel pulled the vouchers away before Aziraphale’s finger could properly point out where he had missed the words.

“We don’t usually accept these here as forms of payment nephew.” Gabriel, looking at him as if he were a simpleton.

“Well uncle, it is against the law to refuse these as a form of payment. Since it is all I have, and since I can’t bill like I usually would, this is all I have.” Aziraphale said holding a hand up with a shrug.

His uncle smiled a tense smile and handed Uriel the vouchers back.

“Well then we’ll just have to make do, then won’t we?” He paused a moment and then looked at Aziraphale, “There is the matter of course of your tab here, it hasn’t been repaid, nor has a payment been made in the slightest. We’re going to have to be closing the account and turning it into the debt collectors at the end of the week if you are unable to make a payment by then. Not to mention the reparations you’ll be billed for the damages to the bakery. As well as the damages to the reputation and legacy of the Eden Family and Eden Farms.” He said all this in a calm tone, his hands outspread as if to say that he hated being the bearer of bad news.

Aziraphale couldn’t hide the scoffing laugh that came out of his mouth. He took a moment to take in a slow breath and exhale, keeping his cool.

“I will be doing no such thing, on either account.” His voice was firm and clipped enunciating every syllable.

Gabriel’s eyebrows went up in surprise, “I beg your pardon?” His voice went deeper, into a more menacing tone.

Aziraphale stuck his chin out, “You heard me.” He stated, his voice clear.

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying nephew,” His uncle stated, his voice nearly a growl.

“Oh, I do know what I am saying. I will not be paying anything to you for anything.” Aziraphale said firmly.

Gabriel’s face turned stonelike, “Irresponsible, ignorant of tradition, ignorant of the working world! You are singlehandedly responsible for tearing down the dynasty that is our family’s life work, your grandfather’s life work! How do you think he would feel seeing this? Seeing you? He would be ashamed of you! Ashamed of how you are! Ashamed of what you’ve done to this family!” His voice thundered, echoing off the stone walls of the store front.

Aziraphale’s face went solemn, “Grandfather would not be ashamed of me. If anything, he would be ashamed of you and how you’ve treated me since he died.” His voice was soft but firm in his statement.

Gabriel’s face slipped into a snarl and he quickly regained his composure, “I am terribly sorry you feel that way. But the fact of the matter is, the fire is entirely your fault. If you had not been so utterly selfish and naïve, and if you hadn’t been traipsing all over London with that DeVille scum then this would have never happened.” Gabriel’s tone was callous and rigid.

“Anthony is not scum, nor is he a DeVille. Even if he were it would not make any difference in this situation. The fire was neither of our faults, so I will not be paying a pound in damages towards the bakery and nor will he.” Aziraphale snapped.

Before his uncle could retort Aziraphale met his eyes with a glare, “All I ever have done in this life is try and please you, try to please this family, and I have lost myself along the way. Trying so hard to be someone, something I’m not, trying so hard to do something that I don’t enjoy as a life’s work, and trying so hard to be worthy of your love. Grandfather would be ashamed of how I let your thoughts of my personhood overrule my own self-worth, my own dreams.” He paused to take a breath, to acknowledge the swell in his heart, the moisture in his eyes as he thought of his grandfather.

“I will no longer be trying to please you, and I will no longer let you dictate how I live my own life and run my own business, and least of all will I let you dictate who I love.”

Aziraphale paused to take a breath, “As of this moment, I will no longer be keeping in any form of contact with you, or anyone else in this family. You’ve not only treated me like a subpar family member but a subpar human, and I refuse to allow that, and I refuse to accept that anymore.” Aziraphale’s voice grew stronger and louder as he stood up for himself and for Anthony.

“Aziraphale, where on earth would you get the idea that we, that I was trying to dictate who you were? How could you say that you are no longer going to be a part of this family?” Gabriel asked his voice pitching upward in alarm as he placed a hand on his chest.

“No, I will not allow you to gaslight me any longer into staying in an unhealthy family unit. And I will not allow you to gaslight me into making myself feel like I am unworthy. I am worthy of everything I want in this life, and what I want is at the hospital waiting for me to return.” Aziraphale turned away from his uncle and headed toward the exit of the store front.

He paused, and without turning around he said, his voice shaking, “You weren’t even concerned of my wellbeing when you found out about the fire, all you could say was that I was a disgrace and that I ruined the family legacy. And neither of those things is true. Goodbye uncle.”

Aziraphale kept his chin up as he walked to the waiting car, his lips quivered, but he did not turn around and did not say another word to his uncle.

He climbed into the back of the car and buckled his seat belt,

“Where next sir?” The Uber driver asked him gently, noticing the tears that were building up in Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale started a moment, and thought for a moment, “If you could take me to The Ginger Pig, just for a moment so I can get some meat products, and then possibly Asda before going to the flat?” Aziraphale asked, not wanting to take too much of the Uber’s time for the day.

“That would be fine sir, Mr. Crowley reserved and paid for my services for most of the day so anywhere you need to go is fine.” The man said.

Aziraphale felt touched by the simple gesture that Anthony had done, reserving a mode of transportation for him so he wouldn’t have to go to where the shop once stood to get either vehicle of theirs. Wouldn’t have to see the ruins of his life. He sniffed and smiled and grabbed his mobile and sent Anthony a text message of a simple heart.

Anthony heard his phone chirp from where it rested on his chest and he looked at the notification, seeing a message from Aziraphale, his immediate thought was concern, but when he saw the little heart emoji his own heart felt like it was going to burst. He smiled and sent Aziraphale a reply of several hearts in a row, and then he laid back on the pillows behind him and worked on taking a nap before it was time for them to leave the hospital.

“This is your discharge packet, it will have your prescriptions to give to the pharmacist, a summary of your vitals here, a summary of the doctor’s notes, information on the conditions the doctors diagnosed you with. Proper wound care instructions as well as follow up appointments to the burn clinic. Once that cast is off, you will have some physical therapy appointments to attend to make sure you are in tip top shape. Are you all set?” The friendly nurse asked handing a packet of paperwork to Anthony.

Anthony took the packet and looked over to Aziraphale, he was looking tired, twin dark circles painted underneath his eyes, His hair was a bit flat, less of a golden shine to it than normal. He had not left his side, other than to water the plants and check their soils, since Anthony had been in the hospital the last six weeks. Aziraphale would sleep in a cot that the hospital graciously provided, sometimes sneaking into Anthony’s bed when the nurses were done with their midnight rounds.

Aziraphale smiled at him, “We’re all set.”

Anthony nodded in agreement, unsure of how he felt about all this.

“The Uber should be downstairs, so we are all tickety boo.” Aziraphale said brightly to the nurse.

Anthony rolled his eyes and then he felt the wheelchair moving underneath him as the attendant pushed him out of the room and down the hall. He didn’t want to Uber he missed his Bentley, but he knew that it was parked safely at his flat thanks to Aziraphale.

As they headed downstairs Anthony glanced at Aziraphale, the only things they had to take out of this place were the discharge papers, some secondhand clothes from the Red Cross, their basic daily things like wallets and phones. Aziraphale had been able to procure a notepad and pen form somewhere, and Anthony’s crutches. Anthony was carrying one thing that Aziraphale hadn’t seen yet, it was wrapped tightly in the scraps of the shirt he had been wearing in the fire and put in one of the plastic hospital bags.

They finally reached the outside and Anthony took in a deep breath of the freshest air he had ever breathed. He hadn’t realized how much he liked the outdoors, and fresh air, and the sun until he had been locked up for six weeks.

Aziraphale chuckled and opened the door of the car waiting for them for Anthony. The attendant got him as close to the car as possible and then stepped to the side.

“Moment of truth.” Anthony muttered, he grabbed his crutches from Aziraphale and hoisted himself up, nearly toppling over. He winced as the crutch under his burnt arm made contact, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could be.

He hopped on his good foot until he had turned around enough, the hospital bag he was gripping tightly plopping against the crutch, and then he plopped into the back seat. Panting he gave Aziraphale two thumbs up, laughing in response Aziraphale shut his door and then loaded their things into the trunk of the Uber including the crutches and the wheelchair that he had ridden down in,

Once everything was loaded Aziraphale climbed into the other side of the back seat and the Uber driver started the car towards Mayfair.

Anthony glanced at Aziraphale, he was still filled with such a relief that he was alive and that he had made it out of the fire. Several times in the night at the hospital he would wake up in a feverish sweat having a nightmare about the flames rising and him unable to find Aziraphale.

“Darling, you’re staring at me.” Aziraphale said, a smile dancing across his lips.

Anthony reached over and gently took Aziraphale’s hand in his raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss along his knuckles.

“I’m just happy.” He murmured against the soft skin of Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale scooted closer to Anthony in the back seat, and gingerly leaned his head against Anthony’s, not wanting to touch his burn wounds on his shoulder.

They uneventfully rode the rest of the way to Anthony’s flat, once they arrived Aziraphale helped Anthony scrambled out of the car and into his wheelchair, Anthony held his crutches and the hospital bag and tried not to yelp at every bump they went over along the sidewalk. It was extremely difficult to get into the complex because the entryway didn’t have a ramp. Aziraphale had to carefully bring Anthony up the simple six steps up backwards in the wheelchair. At one point Anthony nearly toppled out of the wheelchair, but Aziraphale quickly righted him and checked his positioning in the chair before bringing him up the next step. The ride inside the flat was not as difficult once they reached flat ground in the hallway and lift.

Once they reached Anthony’s floor they rolled out of the lift and to his flat.

“Ah, home sweet home.” Anthony said with a content sigh as Aziraphale pushed him over the threshold of the door. They parked the wheelchair in the kitchen and Aziraphale placed the things Anthony was carrying onto the kitchen counter and helped him park the wheelchair and stand up using the crutches.

“These things are going to give me blisters under my arms.” Anthony griped as Aziraphale walked next to him as he made his way to the couch.

Anthony was already feeling the pain of the crutches under his arms, but he gritted his teeth and made it across the room onto the couch, flopping backwards, mindful of his leg and burns.

“Well dearest, now that you are home and out of the hospital at long last, what would you like to do first?” Aziraphale asked him gently sitting next to him.

“What I would just love is a bloody bath, but I don’t think I could maneuver into the bathtub with this leg.” Anthony grumbled gesturing at his casted leg.

Aziraphale sat up a bit, “Well I could help you dearest, we can arrange it to where we make sure it doesn’t get wet.”

Anthony lolled his head to the other side to look at Aziraphale, “Are you sure you’d want to help with that?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“Of course.” Aziraphale said sounding offended to even be asked such a question.

Anthony snorted and started remaneuveriung to get up off the couch.

“Wait just a moment, let me start the water and get everything prepared for you first.” Aziraphale scolded.

Anthony rolled his eyes and laid back against the couch and watched as Aziraphale walked out of the room towards the loo.

He heard the water starting to fill the tub and heard Aziraphale muttering curses as things fell in loud noises in the tub and splashed in the water that was already gathered there.

Aziraphale returned soon after and held a hand out to Anthony, he helped him transfer carefully from the couch to the bathroom using the crutches. Anthony smiled at the pink and purple water and bubbles that filled the tub as Aziraphale directed him to the toilet.

“Let’s sit down dear, I have the lid down, this way we can prepare your bandages and cast carefully, as well as get you undressed without you toppling over.” He nodded towards the toilet and Anthony shifted his weight on his planted foot until he was able to turn around and sit on the toilet with a thunk.

“ugh, I really should put a toilet seat cover on this, one of those soft fluffy ones.” He muttered.

Aziraphale chuckled and he bent down and began untying Anthony’s shoe and slipping his sock off of his foot. His touch was so gentle Anthony could barely feel the clothing coming off of him.

Aziraphale then rose from his bent over position and cautiously began to remove Anthony’s shirt, making sure that the dressing to the burns weren’t getting snagged on the fabric.

“Careful of your arm love.” Aziraphale murmured as he gathered the fabric of the sleeve of his burnt arm and as tender as a feather slipped it off of his torso, tossing it on the ground beside them.

Aziraphale then grabbed plastic material in a roll box with a serrated edge and began stripping material out of the box.

“Wot is that?” Anthony asked incredulously raising an eyebrow at the plastic.

“It’s Press and Seal, it’s commonly used for leftover food, but it can also be used to keep dressings dry when you are bathing.” Aziraphale said as he began pressing and sealing the plastic wrap to the bandages along Anthony’s burns.

“And where on earth did you learn how to do this?” Anthony asked surprised.

“I asked the CNAs at the hospital what the best way for you to take a bath or a shower once you were out of the hospital. Those girls are very resourceful with the obstacles they have to go through for their jobs.” Aziraphale said his voice tinging with awe as he remembered the women and a couple men working at the hospital that had made Anthony’s stay as comfortable for him as possible. 

Anthony looked at Aziraphale as he gently applied pressure to the edges to the press and seal to the dressing, his heart thrumming at the sheer thoughtfulness that just exuded from him.

“Dearest, I’m going to have you stand now and I’ll help you walk to the tub, then I’ll remove your pants and then help you carefully get into the tub.” Aziraphale explained step by step.

“Admit it angel, this was just a ploy to get me out of my pants all along.” Anthony teased winking at Aziraphale who blushed a fetching shade of pink.

“Foul fiend.” Aziraphale murmured giving Anthony a kiss on his forehead before looping his arm under his and helping him to the tub.

Anthony stood balanced on one foot while Aziraphale carefully slid his pants off, he had gotten a lovely pair of pink paisley sweatpants from the lost and found section of the laundry at the hospital.

“All of my pants are way too tight for this monstrosity, it’s okay.” He had said laughing to a protesting Aziraphale who had offered to bring him clothes from his flat to change into.

“Bet you’re glad to be rid of those.” Anthony chuckled as Aziraphale carefully looped the pants down his waist hitting the top of the cast.

“You have no idea.” Aziraphale said suggestively.

He helped Anthony sit on the edge of the tub and then carefully shimmied the pants down his legs, the cast being difficult at the very top part getting the pant leg over the thick cast.

With a small huff of frustration Aziraphale was finally able to get the pant leg down, and he tossed the pants in a heap in the bathroom corner.

“You can wear the pair of sleeping pants I have in my drawer here, they should fit over your cast, but everywhere else they will be very loose.” Aziraphale said with a chuckle.

Anthony grinned at the thought of wearing Aziraphale’s sleeping pants and made a happy noise in the back of his throat. Aziraphale shot him a grin and then rose from the floor.

“Alright dearest, if you’re ready we can get you into the tub.” He held out his hand toward Anthony and Anthony took it and he rose from his seated position with Aziraphale’s help. Aziraphale slowly helped him make his way to the bathtub.

“Luckily, the faucet is facing the way it is, you can prop your broken leg up and still rest your head back without it hitting the spigot.” Aziraphale pointed out.

Anthony grunted in response trying to concentrate on getting to the tub without falling or causing Aziraphale to fall.

They reached the side of the tub and Aziraphale helped Anthony balance on the edge, slowly turn to the side, he grabbed the little bar on the other side of the tub where you can hang washcloths, and slowly slid his good leg into the water, pulling himself off the tub’s edge by the little bar.

“There we go, nice and steady.” Aziraphale eased him downward, and with a small splash got him positioned in the tub with his cast propped up on the side of the tub.

“God this feels amazing.” Anthony groaned as he submerged himself into the water, the press and seal keeping his dressings dry.

Aziraphale pressed his lips together in a smile as he watched Anthony visibly relax with the warm water surrounding him

“Here love, if you’d like I’ll wash your hair for you.” Aziraphale offered as Anthony continued to relax in the water.

“If I’d like, he says.” Anthony grinned as he teased Aziraphale.

Aziraphale laughed and after propping Anthony’s casted foot on a bundle of towels he migrated towards Anthony’s head and gathered the bottle of shampoo and bottle of conditioner. Anthony sat up better in the tub so Aziraphale wouldn’t have to angle himself any weirder to reach his scalp than he already had to.

Aziraphale grabbed the shower head and detached it and brought it down to Anthony’s head, luckily, he had an extended hose for it, he handed it to Anthony as placed a couple of folded towels on the floor and then kneeled at the side of the tub, letting the towels cushion him.

Aziraphale gently sprayed Anthony’s hair with the shower head on the lowest setting holding the shower head with one hand, carefully using his other hand to weave his fingers through the auburn locks. He tenderly tilted Anthony’s head back so he wouldn’t get water or shampoo in his eyes and he softly grazed Anthony’s scalp with his fingernails, soliciting a low moan from Anthony. His head tipped back even more, his shoulders dropped, and he felt more relaxed than he had when he first got into the water.

Aziraphale began to hum quietly as he began to lather shampoo into Anthony’s hair, the pads of his hands massaging his scalp and his nails scratching gently, thoroughly cleaning Anthony’s hair.

“Close your eyes love.” Aziraphale said as he began to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, carefully running his fingers through his locks and letting the lathered bubbles wash into the tub.

Anthony was humming a nonsequential stream of low tones as a heavy calm washed over him. Everything he had been feeling lately was wringing out of him like the shampoo was wringing out of his hair.

He felt tears starting to roll down his cheeks and his shoulders began to tremble; he bit his bottom lip to try and keep the tears and eventual sobs at bay.

“Dearest,” Aziraphale paused, placing a hand along Anthony’s cheek and gently caressing it with his thumb, “It’s okay.”

Anthony took in a strangled breath and tried to keep the sobs at bay, but he couldn’t, and he finally let them out with a heaving exhale.

Aziraphale tenderly finished rinsing out Anthony’s hair as he cried, his shoulders shaking, his lips quivering. Once the water and shampoo were rinsed fully from his hair Aziraphale gently cupped Anthony’s cheek in his hand.

Anthony blinked back more tears as he looked at Aziraphale, his big blue eyes shimmering, tears welling in them as well. Anthony reached up and caressed the side of Aziraphale’s face with his fingertips, accidently leaving a small trail of pink bubbles.

Anthony hiccupped a laugh through his tears, “Oh Angel, I got bubbles on your face.”

Aziraphale chuckled, “Foul fiend.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Anthony’s forehead, then reached for a dry washcloth and handed it to Anthony.

Anthony took it and wiped the bubbles from Aziraphale’s face.

“That was for your tears silly.” Aziraphale chastised with a grin.

Anthony barked a laugh and once he was done getting the pink frothy streaks off of Aziraphale’s face he wiped his face with the washcloth.

When Anthony was done Aziraphale had him lean his head back again and he began lathering conditioner into his hair, humming as he did so, gentle scratching his scalp, massaging the conditioner along his hairline, working it through the gentle waves that made it up his auburn mane.

When the last of the bubbles finally dissipated and the conditioner and soap rinsed from Anthony’s being, Aziraphale pulled the stopper to drain the tub, and he grabbed a towel wrapping it around Anthony’s shoulders, “I don’t want you to get cold while we’re drying you off.” He explained.

Aziraphale gently helped Anthony bring his casted leg to the side of the tub letting it dangle down over the edge while Anthony scooted carefully around, Aziraphale grabbed his hands gingerly and helped him slide from the bottom of the tub to the side.

As Anthony sat and caught his breath Aziraphale carefully took the Press and seal off of the burn bandages, cautiously separating them to where the dressings were still intact.  
When all the press and seal was off the bandages Aziraphale crouched down and began drying Anthony’s uncasted lower extremity, a towel at his feet, and applying a lotion to help the skin stay hydrated.

Aziraphale smiled and looked up at Anthony, who’s golden gaze was intent on every minute action Aziraphale was performing.

“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light, the blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half-light,” Aziraphale started his voice soft, the words dripping with love and caring towards Anthony.

“I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”

Anthony looked at him, his mouth hanging open slightly, his gaze starry eyed, Aziraphale looked up and grinned sheepishly.

“A poem from Yeats, I think it was fitting in the moment. I have no house, no business, no belongings, just dreams, and you. And I am spreading a cloth under your feet, so very fitting for the moment.” 

Anthony reached a hand forward and ran his fingers lovingly through Aziraphale’s curls, “You do have a house though, you can always stay here in the flat with me. I know it’s not the same as yours, but you’re welcome here, you have a place here.” He said emphatically, to make sure Aziraphale knew that he meant it.

Tears sprung to Aziraphale’s eyes, “I know dearest.” He sighed heavily and rested his forehead against Anthony’s knee, the reality of his flat, his books, his shop, all of his belongings, gone.

Anthony rubbed Aziraphale’s back as he cried gentle tears, trying to soothe him as best he could, “I’m so sorry about the fire, it’s all my fault.” He murmured; his voice so low that Aziraphale almost didn’t hear him.

Aziraphale looked up at him, “It was not your fault, you didn’t set the fire, and the only reason that they set it was because you weren’t willing to break my heart. I’m glad it happened this way. I would much rather lose every book I own than lose you. You are the biggest treasure to my heart.” He reached a hand up to Anthony’s face and cupped his cheek in his hand.

Anthony smiled and turned his face into Aziraphale’s hand, placing a kiss to his palm.

Wordlessly Aziraphale grabbed the clothing that he had brought into the bathroom and began to dress Anthony, pulling the large sweatpants over his cast, and meticulously bringing a sweater over his head and being careful not to let it snag on his bandages, helped him put his arms through the sleeves and then pulled it down over his torso.

Aziraphale rose and held his hands out to Anthony to help him off of the side of the tub, Anthony grabbed Aziraphale’s hands and pulled himself up. They slowly made their way to the bed and Aziraphale helped Anthony climb into it.

“You need to go and take a relaxing shower angel, and your things are still in your drawer, so you can wear some clothes that actually have a decent color scheme and don’t look like a parrot threw up.” Anthony said pointedly looking at the outdated 80s sweater that a TV dad would wear.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and then smiled, “I’m glad that they are still there, it would be nice to wear my own clothes again.”

“Course they’re still there, I wasn’t going to get rid of them, one might be a little rumpled.” Anthony balked in surprise and murmured embarrassed.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow curiously.

“I may have worn one, or slept in one, while we were, you know.” Anthony trailed off, his cheeks blazing a shade of pink.

Aziraphale gave him a peck on the cheek, “I did the same with yours, but I don’t have them for you anymore.” He said sadly.

“Understandable.” Anthony said with a forced laugh.

“I’ll be right back, if you need anything while I’m in there please don’t hesitate to call out.” Aziraphale instructed.

“I’m not going to call you out of the shower for something.” Anthony said rolling his eyes.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, he laughed and then turned and went into the bathroom.

When Anthony heard the water to the shower turn on, he threw the covers of the bed back and tried to gracefully swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He reached for the crutches that were propped up near the bed. He knocked one over and cursed under his breath.

He waited a moment, and not hearing Aziraphale run towards the sudden clamor he reached down and grabbed it from the floor. He pushed himself off the bed and began to hobble toward the kitchen.

The padded pad of the crutches was digging into his underarms, not used to the feeling they were beginning to protest even with the short distance he was going. The skin under his arms were aching and chapping. The underarm of his burned arm was hurting even more with a boiling chapping ache.

He gritted his teeth and kept hobbling to the kitchen, finally reaching it he looked on the counter for the bag that held the shirt he was wearing in the fire as well as the thing he had been keeping secret from Aziraphale.

He grabbed the bag in a tight fist and then swung himself around on the crutches and headed back to the bedroom. He was in the doorway when he heard the water to the shower turn off.

He muttered under his breath and took bigger swinging steps and made it to the bed when the door to the bathroom opened.

“Now, I told you to call out if you needed anything while I was in there.” Aziraphale scolded hurrying to Anthony’s side, still wet from his shower. The towel he had used to dry off around his shoulders, the rest of him bare.

“I can do it angel; besides I didn’t want to bother you with it.” Anthony griped keeping the bag away from Aziraphale and turning to sit on the bed.

Aziraphale helped Anthony get back into a comfortable spot on the bed and then he turned to his drawer and grabbed out a pair of pajamas that he had been keeping there, pale yellow with thin blue stripes along the entirety of it.

Anthony watched him dress with reverence, every precise movement that Aziraphale made, every inch of flesh that was revealed made his heart clench tightly, his eyes welled up and he was fit to bursting with tears again. He was so beautiful, every single thing about him, and he was safe, his angel was beautiful and glorious and safe above all else.

“Anthony, you’re staring.” Aziraphale accused a blush deepening the color of his cheeks as he pulled his pajama pants up, lightly sliding up his generously wide thighs and hips, they rested comfortable at his waist, the waistband resting delicately underneath the gentle curve of his belly and sides.

“Yes.” Anthony nodded, his hands reaching out towards Aziraphale, aching to touch him, treasure him, hold him closer.

Aziraphale chuckled and came within reach of Anthony’s grasp and he a smiled stretched across his lips as Anthony snaked his arms around his waist placing a gentle kiss on the upper crest of his belly.

Aziraphale giggled and ran his fingers through Anthony’s hair, twirling the sunset locks around his plump fingers.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale, his eyes starry, “You’re just so beautiful, and you’re here, and you’re safe.” He voiced the words that had been going through his mind, he wanted to account for everything, every strand of golden curls, every freckle across his nose, every stretch mark across his form. He wanted to be a thousand percent sure he was unscathed.

“Yes, I’m here, and I’m safe.” Aziraphale murmured back to Anthony, his lips pressing against his hair.

“You forgot beautiful.” Anthony grumbled looking up at him, pouting at the omission.

Aziraphale tutted and kissed Anthony again, “And beautiful.” He murmured.

Anthony grinned and gave Aziraphale’s plush middle a squeeze, placing another kiss on the gentle curving swoop of his belly.

Aziraphale giggled as Anthony released him so he could finish dressing in his pajamas while Anthony hauled his broken leg back into the bed and got comfortable. Then Aziraphale climbed into the bed next to him, that’s when he noticed the bag that Anthony had retrieved from the kitchen.

“What’s this dear?” Aziraphale asked picking the bag up tentatively raising an eyebrow up at him curiously.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale and placed a hand on his soft knee and leaned back.

“When I was, when I went into the bakery, when I thought you were inside, and I ignored the firemen that were outside telling me not to go in, all I could think about was finding you. And I searched through the whole place, so afraid,” A light sob escaped from his lips and he bit down on his bottom lip hard.

“So afraid that I was too late, that I had lost you in the blaze. And I was sitting there crying out to you, cursing heaven and hell, and I found this.”

Aziraphale looked curiously at the bag and he reached his hand into the plastic bag, the smell of smoke wafting in the air, giving him a mild jolt of shock. He took in a deep breath and pulled out what was resting at the bottom of the bag.

The t-shirt that Anthony had been wearing in the fire, it was in the bag, wrapped tightly around something. Aziraphale’s mind flashed to the first moment when he saw Anthony after they had been taken from the fire, the paramedics cutting the shirt off of him to treat the burns that he had sustained from the fire, the scene brought a jolt of fear into his heart.

He felt the weight of Anthony’s hand on his knee and he remembered that he was here, that he was here, with him, and that he was okay.

Aziraphale grabbed part of the fabric of Anthony’s shredded and smoky t-shirt and unwrapped it from the packaging underneath.

Anthony watched as Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with shock and recognition.

“My grandfather’s recipe book?” Aziraphale asked, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears as he turned to look at Anthony.

“I wanted to save it for you, because I knew, I knew somehow, that I would be seeing you again. And if I didn’t, see you again, I wanted to save any part of you that I could. And I didn’t want, I know how much your books meant to you, especially that one, and I didn’t want them all to be lost.” Anthony rattled on, his voice low and tears filling his eyes.

Aziraphale looked at the book in shock, and then placed it delicately on the bedside table before turning to look at Anthony, he reached his plump hands up to his face and cradled them. “You did nothing but love me.” Aziraphale’s voice cracked as tears began to stream down his face.

“For the rest of my life.” Anthony replied, reaching up gently and wiping Aziraphale’s tears from his cheeks.

Aziraphale smiled through the tears that were falling and leaned forward, bringing Anthony’s face closer to his and pressing a kiss against his lips.

“For the rest of my life.” He echoed to him, murmuring against his lips.

Anthony smiled and reached his hands up to Aziraphale’s hair and threaded his fingers through the golden curls.

His golden eyes searched Aziraphale’s face, he wanted to commit the face deeper into his memories. The fear of losing him from the fire had not completely gone away and he wanted to do everything he could to keep every trace of him in his mind’s eye.

Aziraphale felt a light blush appear on his face as Anthony’s eyes treaded over his features, he knew what he was doing, because he had been doing the exact same thing since he had first seen him in the hospital. Cataloguing every red hair that sprung from his head, every eyelash that cast a shadow upon his cheeks, every speck of gold in his eyes.

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” Anthony murmured, his eyes locking onto Aziraphale’s shimmering blue eyes.

Aziraphale stifled a surprised laugh, “That’s Maya Angelou,” his hand pressing to his heart.

“You’re not the only one who knows poetry.” Anthony smirked with a raised eyebrow and a glint in his eye.

Aziraphale chuckled and traced the side of Anthony’s face with his fingertips, “I am yours darling,” He paused a moment, and took in a sharp breath, “I am yours, I am yours as the stars belong to the sky, and I am yours as the rivers belong to the sea, I am yours as your tears belong to your eyes, and I am yours as your lungs belong to the pattern in which you breathe.” Aziraphale recited the Christopher Poindexter poem gently.

“Show off.” Anthony chuckled through a new wave of tears.

Aziraphale laughed and held Anthony close to his chest nuzzling his face into his flaming hair. Anthony felt his bones relax into the softness of Aziraphale’s form. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s middle as they leaned back against the pillows together, cradling each other tightly, as they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Anthony was resting on the couch in the living room while Aziraphale made breakfast for the both of them when a sharp knock pounded against the door.

They shared a look and Aziraphale went to answer the door as Anthony transferred himself from the couch to the wheelchair. Grimacing as he did so, his upper arms were beginning to ache with the repeated use of them heaving himself from one place to the other. It wasn’t much better than the crutches because those rubbed his underarms raw.

“Hello, may I help you?” Aziraphale asked simply to whoever was standing on the other side of the door.

Anthony wheeled himself to the front door and looked up, only to be greeted by his landlord.

“Mr. Crowley, I was wondering when you would be showing up finally.” He sneered looking down at Anthony in the wheelchair.

“Got a bit held up, this place could really do with some handicap accessibility updates.” Anthony raised an eyebrow as he looked up at Aziraphale and then to his landlord, not sure what he was doing there, but unsurprised to see him.

“Your uncle informed me that you are out of a job, and that you committed arson on the bakery that’s all over the news. I do not tolerate felons under my roof.” He handed Anthony several papers with the words EMERGENCY EVICTION across the top in big red letters.

“Are you bloody joking?” Anthony laughed; he could not believe this. The laugh did not mask the panic that he felt in his chest instantly.

“Good sir, I regret to inform you,” Aziraphale started, his voice rumbling with anger.

“I am not here to talk to you sir; I don’t even know you.” The landlord verbally swatted Aziraphale’s objections aside.

Aziraphale looked at the man’s flailing hand, anger flashing in his eyes and he looked up at the landlord with determination on his face.

“I was the owner of “the bakery all over the news”, I don’t know who is spreading these vicious lies, but Anthony is not the one who committed the arson.” Aziraphale interrupted, refusing to be silenced from this little man. Anthony looked up, surprised at the tone of Aziraphale’s voice, it was not one he had heard from him before. And at that moment he looked formidable, even with his buttercup yellow pajamas, he looked like he was waiting to wield a flaming sword at his landlord.

The landlord looked surprised for a moment and then shook his head slightly before snarling at Anthony, “Your uncle Stanley is the one who informed me of your heinous act. I want your arse out of here by five o’clock today, or I will have you arrested.”

Anthony gaped at the man, “And how do you bloody expect that to happen? I’m in a wheelchair or on crutches, which with the zero handicap accessibility the building has, will alone take ages, and I have nowhere else to go!” Anthony protested.

“Funnily enough your uncle said that he offered to hide you at his home, said that you have to care for family, well you are not my family, you are a tenant and as of five o’clock tonight you are no longer a concern of mine. If you are still here, then I will be calling the police.”

With that the landlord slammed the door, leaving Anthony and Aziraphale there in shock.

Anthony tried to straighten his thoughts, he felt like he was in a vice, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t get any air, he felt like he was suffocating in the fire all over again, the smoke suffocating him. His vision began to darken along the edges, unfocused on the surroundings around him.

“Hey, hey,” Aziraphale’s voice sounding far away in his mind became clearer as he blinked rapidly, his eyes focusing on Aziraphale who had crouched down to be at his eye level.

“It will be okay, I don’t want you thinking about this or worrying, let me make a few calls and it will all be right as rain.” Aziraphale said trying to keep Anthony grounded and here with him.

“B-but,” Anthony started to protest.

Aziraphale placed a hand on his knee, “Trust me.” He said gently, his voice warm and smooth like honey.

Anthony bit his bottom lip and gulped and nodded his head.

Aziraphale stood up and wheeled Anthony to the table and then placed the breakfast he had cooked in front of him.

“You eat your breakfast darling, and I am going to make some calls.” He said as he placed a hand on Anthony’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“Okay.” Anthony said, his voice wavering slightly.

Aziraphale left the room and went into the bedroom, Anthony could faintly hear his voice through the walls of the apartment. He looked at the food on the plate in front of him, though it looked delicious, he was too wracked with nerves to eat anything yet. But he knew Aziraphale wanted him to eat so he took a couple of small bites.

Aziraphale paced the floor in the bedroom while he talked on the phone, he had already made a couple calls, but he had one more to make before knowing that everything was taken care of. His anger boiling at the landlord and Anthony’s family flamed again while he listened to the line he was waiting on trill.

Once they finally answered he talked with them and satisfied he hung up the phone and went back into the living area where Anthony was picking at his breakfast. Aziraphale made himself a plate and then sat down next to Anthony.

“Dearest you should eat some food.” He encouraged Anthony while he took his own bite of toast.

“I’m trying, I’m also freaking out while trying not to do that also.” Anthony mumbled stabbing his eggs with a fork.

“Everything is taken care of dearest; I’ve made a couple calls and Newton is going to come help us move things out of here. He has access to a truck, and we have mine available, and we can get everything out of here by the time frame the landlord wanted.” Aziraphale said reassuringly.

Anthony looked at Aziraphale with confusion, “But where are we going to go?” He asked, his voice trembling slightly with a twinge of fear laced with worry.

Aziraphale smiled at him, “Well, I wanted to talk to you about this later on, but since your uncle is forcing my hand,” He paused, and reached for Anthony’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Do you happen to remember Mrs. Willoughby?” He asked with an eyebrow peaked upwards.

Anthony’s brows furrowed and he nodded hesitantly.

“Well as well as a loyal customer, she is my insurance agent. She has been helping me get things sorted and pulled together while you were recovering in the hospital. She was always so appreciative that I paid my bill on time with her, that she was ready as soon as she heard about the fire on the news, she was just waiting for my call to file a report. My insurance policy on the bakery, as well as the flat and the belongings inside both, with Mrs. Willoughby working on it with the fire department that was there, surveillance cameras around the shop, working with the police…” He tailed off a moment, and then his face erupted in a smile.

“There was able to account for enough money to purchase a small cottage in the South Downs, and then some.” Aziraphale’s voice quavered slightly.

Anthony’s eyes grew wide as he absorbed what Aziraphale was saying.

“You mean,” He started, his voice breaking as he spoke.

Aziraphale nodded, his blonde curls bobbing, “There is a place for us to go, for you to go. There is a place for you there, with me, if you’d like.” Aziraphale stuttered, worried that he was dropping too much on Anthony and scaring him.

Anthony swiftly wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and squeezed him close and tightly.

“Of course I’d like.” He said through a wave of tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Aziraphale squeezed him back and gently placed a kiss on his cheek.

They turned back to their breakfast and continued to eat until their plates were empty. Then Aziraphale went into the other room to change into one of his outfits that he had left in Anthony’s drawer while Anthony began to putter in the living room making different stacks of things to move.

Newton arrived a short time later with Anathema, Anthony seemed to vaguely recognize them from the shop, Newton was looking at Anthony apprehensively, remembering how he had helped Aziraphale with blocking Anthony’s number from contacting him on his cell phone.

“I assure you Newton, everything is as is should be, well almost, once we get done moving.” Aziraphale chuckled giving Newt a reassuring pat on the back.

Together the three ambulatory ones loaded the trucks while Anthony gathered things together inside the flat. Newton’s large moving truck, which was Anathema’s because she had just moved and didn’t have to return the truck for another two days, was full of everything except the houseplants, which were carefully strapped into Aziraphale’s truck bed, secured by the straps he used to secure the apple barrels in.

“Well, we’ll be out way before five o’clock.” Anthony said with a chuckle as Aziraphale wheeled him out of the flat, the last of the belongings loaded into the moving truck. Newton had already left ahead of them with Anathema and the rest of the belongings in the moving truck and had headed to the cottage.

Aziraphale carefully wheeled Anthony out of his flat for the last time. Anthony looked bitterly at the shut door behind them, he enjoyed his flat before it became a spontaneity of abuse caused by his uncle and cousins coming unannounced to harm him or threaten him.

As the thoughts of his uncle and cousins went through his mind, he felt a wave of anger wash over him.

“Aziraphale, can we possibly stop by Lucy’s Café before we go to the cottage?” Anthony asked looking up at Aziraphale from his seat in the wheelchair as they went down in the lift.

Aziraphale looked a bit surprised, but nodded, “Of course darling.” He said as the doors to the lift opened.

Anthony’s landlord was sitting at the concierge desk marking things on papers, not looking up. Anthony gave a short sharp whistle, when his landlord’s gaze popped up Anthony tossed his apartment keys to him and waved a goodbye.

“Good riddance.” His landlord muttered pocketing the keys and going back to his paperwork.

Aziraphale turned Anthony around to start going backwards down the front steps.

“Oi! You should really get the ADA recommended accessibility updates before someone reports you for being outdated!” Anthony shouted at the landlord, thinking of his elderly neighbor with the dog.

The landlord shook his head and left the desk, slamming the office door behind him.

When they reached Aziraphale’s truck he parallel parked Anthony’s wheelchair next to the open truck passenger door. He locked Anthony’s wheels and handed Anthony his crutches.

Anthony scooted himself to the edge of the wheelchair seat and placed his crutches in a good solid position before raising himself off the seat and standing on his one good foot. He hopped closer to the open truck door until he was at a good angle to grab the handles on the inside of the door and then he handed Aziraphale the crutches. Using the handles of the truck he hauled himself inside and landed with a thud on the soft ancient seat.

Aziraphale smiled and gently placed the crutches at Anthony’s feet and shut the door for him. Then he folded up the wheelchair and placed it in the bed of the truck. He went around the front of it and climbed in. As he pulled away from the curb of the complex Anthony directed him on where to go and how to get to Lucy’s Café.

When they arrived at the familiar building Anthony felt his heartbeat quicken and a wave of nausea washed over him. He felt Aziraphale reach across the seat of the truck and rest his hand on his knee.

“Do you want me to go inside with you?” He asked Anthony gently, he was afraid of letting him go inside alone.

“As much as I appreciate that, I need to do this on my own.” Anthony gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze.

Anthony took a deep breath and opened the truck’s door, grabbed his crutches, and swung himself out and onto the sidewalk.

As he crutched through the entrance of the café, he felt like he was going to faint, his heart was racing so fast.

“Cousin! Good to see you, alive that is.” Bee called from behind the counter as Anthony hobbled inside.

He sneered at her, “He in his office?” He asked jerking his head to where his uncle’s office was.

Bee nodded with a malicious grin on her face and crossed her arms, her black hair framing her face in a shadow.

Anthony used the crutches to get himself down the hall and stopped at his uncle’s office door. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to cry, he wanted to turn around and go back outside and just leave for the cottage and never look back.

He pulled out his cell phone, his thumb tapping several different apps, half tempted to sit and calm down on his mood tracking app, he ached to just call Aziraphale have him come inside with him, and then he remembered seeing Aziraphale and how he staggered through the fire towards him, and a fury rose in his throat. He shoved his phone in his pocket and pushed the office door open and staggered in.

“Well hello nephew.” His uncle greeted him from behind his desk, his voice bored, his gaze and attention staying on the computer in front of him.

Anthony ignored his uncle’s nonchalant greeting and stood there a moment to see if his uncle would look up and talk to him, after a few moments when he didn’t, he slammed the end of a crutch on the desk. A loud BANG filling the small office.

His uncle raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you in some way? Perhaps needing a place to stay?” He asked, his tone uninterested.

Anger flared in Anthony’s head, “How dare you!” He snarled at his uncle.

Stan looked bored beyond belief, “How dare I what Anthony? You’ll need to be more specific in that range.” He said, his voice sounding as bored as the expression on his face.

“Everything! How dare you do everything that you’ve done!” Anthony growled.

“You mean take you in after your mother died? Raise you as one of my own?” Stanley snarled at Anthony.

“Raise me as one of your own? You treated me like shit! And that’s not what I’m talking about and you bloody well know it!” Anthony shouted hitting the floor with his crutch angrily.

“Oh, are you talking about alerting your landlord to the fact that you have no job?” his uncle asked with a twisted smile.

Anthony snarled at him.

“Or tell him that you are the arsonist that set the fire at our rival business’ bakery?” His uncle asked with a chuckle rising out of his seat and resting each hand on the desk, using the leverage to lean forward towards Anthony.

“I did not start that fire.” Anthony growled, his voice low his chin sticking outward defiantly.

“Oh, I know you didn’t you half-wit, you were here with me, whinging like you are right now. Hans and Laurent set the fire, and they did a very good job of it too. Made sure everything went up in flames.” He paused looking at Anthony.

“Well almost a very good job, you’re still here. As well as the baker I believe?” His uncle asked cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes, Aziraphale is still alive, no thanks to them and no thanks to you.” Anthony said indignantly his voice cracking.

“Pity, guess they didn’t completely finish the job as they were instructed.” His uncle shrugged turning his attention back to the laptop.

“You told them to kill him?” Anthony’s voice rose three octaves and cracked as he yelped.

“Not in so many words, that’s hard for them to comprehend all at once. I believe the exact phrasing I used was, ‘set the fire, leave no witnesses, leave no survivors, no matter who is there.’ Pity they didn’t follow directions. Then I wouldn’t be getting taken away from my work right now.” His uncle said, his eyes flashing with anger.

Anthony’s rage overtook every other emotion inside him, and he gripped the handlebar of his crutch and raising it upwards he swung it at his uncle with a cry of rage, hitting him in the face hard enough to make him lose his balance and stumble to the side, gripping the edge of his desk for support.

His uncle’s breath came out in ragged succession and he snapped his head up to look at Anthony, his gaze dripping with venom, his mouth set in hatred, a low growl radiating from low in his throat rumbling through the air.

Anthony stood there, his back straight, his chin out, breathing heavily, but holding his ground, he was not going to bow down and submit to his uncle, not anymore.

His uncle rose from his stumbled position and before Anthony could blink, his uncle reared his hand back and struck Anthony on the side of his face with enough force to make him stumble, losing his balance and falling on the ground, his crutches clattering on the floor next to him.

“How dare you!” His uncle’s voice echoed off of his office walls. Anthony grimaced as he slid his hand across the floor and tried to stand up off the floor.

“You foul loathsome swine! You came to me with nothing and I took you in giving you a place to stay! And this, THIS is how you repay me? How dare you! You are to do what I order you to do, and you can’t even do that you worthless serpent!”

As Anthony struggled to stand, he could hear his uncle’s boots pounding the floor as he came around the desk and reached down grabbing Anthony by the scruff of his shirt at the back of his neck.

“You are meaningless, you are no one, and you have nothing! And there is nothing you can do about it. You have no one to turn to and no where to go. You don’t even have a bridge to stay under.” His uncle snarled, his mouth close to Anthony’s face, he could feel the heat emitting his breath, his hand in a vice grip at the back of his neck.

Anthony could feel his own breath coming in short spurts, almost to the point of hyperventilating, he should not have come here, he should have just left with Aziraphale and never looked back.

“Unless of course, you’re coming back to me Anthony, I can give you a place to stay, but only if you heed my orders.” Stanley growled in Anthony’s ear, his voice low and seductive.

“I am not coming anywhere near you!” Anthony shouted jerking his face away from his uncle, his neck getting scratched in the process of removing himself from his uncle’s vicinity.

“If you are not with us, you’re against us, you are not a part of this family, and I will not have you drag our name through the shit streets of London! You’ll be back soon enough, begging for a place to stay.” His uncle roared raising his hand again as Anthony flinched.

The door to the office burst open and Aziraphale strode through quickly raising a hand to catch Stanley’s hand that was reared back to strike Anthony.

“Actually, he does have a place to stay, with me.” Aziraphale said grabbing Stanley’s wrist and shoving him back towards his desk and away from Anthony.

Stanley stumbled backward catching his balance on the side of the desk as Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Anthony’s waist and gingerly ducked his head under Anthony’s arm to help him keep his stance upright.

Anthony’s eyes went wide at seeing Aziraphale, if he thought that he looked like an avenging angel before with his landlord he was a true seraphim angel before him now. Anthony was surprised when he didn’t see several pairs of wings sprout from Aziraphale’s back or see thousands of eyes glittering along his skin.

“All you need is a flaming sword.” Anthony muttered with a giddy laugh.

Aziraphale looked at him as if he had lost his mind, his blue eyes bewildered, taking in Anthony’s face, “did you hit your head darling?” He asked confused.

Anthony laughed sharply and shook his head at Aziraphale, then worked on righting himself to where Aziraphale didn’t have to support his weight like a low bearing wall.

Anthony’s uncle pushed himself off of the side of the desk, “So you’re the fat baker that’s been rivaling my shop I presume?” He asked with a sneer, he looked Aziraphale up and down, his face clearly unimpressed.

“You act as though you don’t know who I am, when clearly your orders for your sons to commit arson were intended towards me and my shop.” Aziraphale said calmly, standing up straight, his eyes steely and boring holes into Stanley’s eyes.

Stanley laughed a humorless laugh, “I wouldn’t waste the time on you it took to spit in your direction.” Stanley glowered at him.

“But you instruct your kin to? What kind of man does that make you? Giving the dirty work to mere children?” Aziraphale asked, his voice full of disapproval.

All the humor left Stanley’s face, “It makes me a powerful one, lest you forget Eden. It is because of me your shop is all but ash in the wind. You’re lucky you and my nephew escaped with your lives, as worthless as they are.” Stanley snarled.

“Just means you’ll have to try harder next time you try to murder us.” Aziraphale said smugly, his lips pursed smugly.

Stanley growled in response, a low rumbling in his throat.

Aziraphale turned to Anthony, “Are you ready?” He asked gently.

Anthony nodded his head, he stood upright and let Aziraphale help him remain balanced as they walked toward his uncle’s office door to exit. Anthony paused before walking through it and turned to face his uncle one last time.

“All I ever asked for, all I ever wanted, was to be a part of this family, but now,” He paused and looked at Aziraphale, whose eyes were brimming with pride at Anthony.

“Now I have my own.” Anthony looked at his uncle one more time and shook his head, and then turned to Aziraphale. Aziraphale beamed at him and gave his hip a squeeze as they walked out of the office. Shutting the door behind them as they walked up the hallway toward the exit of the café Anthony could hear a commotion on the other side of the wall, his cousins arguing.

“There’s no way that they survived that! It was one of our best fires yet!” Hans balked as they turned the corner.

“I told you that they are here, and they are talking with dad, you idiots can’t do anything right!” Bee raised her hand to whack Hans on the side of the head.

Anthony and Aziraphale paused at the front door of the café and appraised Anthony’s cousins standing behind the counter, Hans and Laurent were staring daggers at Bee as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“We poured gasoline all over the outskirts of the building, I was even able to rig up an insecticide sprayer to spray up where the flat was! I remember someone talking about all of his books that he had and I said to myself I said that those books would be a great tinder for the fire. Didn’t I say that Hans?” Laurent yelped angrily.

“Yeah, it was a foolproof fire, it should’ve killed them both!” Hans glowered angrily.

“Too bad you’re both fools.” Anthony interrupted smugly.

Hans and Laurent’s faces whipped toward the front of the shop and Anthony flipped them the bird at the same time Aziraphale gave them a little wave.

Bewilderment flashed on both of their faces, quickly replaced by anger.

Before they could get enough of their wits about them to go after them, Aziraphale and Anthony walked swiftly out of the café and climbed into Aziraphale’s truck, locking the doors, and driving away.

As they drove in silence for a moment, Anthony looking out the window sighing deeply.

“Did you get all you needed dear?” Aziraphale asked, his voice full of concern.

Anthony turned to Aziraphale nodding, “Yeah, just, it hurts.” He said trying to talk over the lump in his throat.

Aziraphale reached over and took Anthony’s hand in his, “I know dearest.” He said giving his hand a squeeze.

Anthony looked over at Aziraphale, “but the looks on Hans and Laurent’s faces? I wish I had gotten them on camera.” He said with a chuckle.

Aziraphale laughed with him as he brought the truck onto the highway, following the signs that pointed towards the South Downs.

“Are you ready to go home dear?” He asked his blue eyes looking up to meet Anthony’s.

Anthony felt a moisture at the corner of his eyes as he nodded, “Anywhere you are I’m home.” He murmured bringing Aziraphale’s hand to his own lips and kissing them.

Aziraphale blushed, unable to contain the smile that spread across his face, “Let’s go home.” He said bringing Aziraphale’s hand up to his lips and placing a delicate kiss to his plump dimpled knuckles.

Aziraphale blushed as he turned the wheel and pointed them in the direction of the setting sun, illuminating their way to their new home.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The competition is finally here! Who will win the great war? The Edens or the DeVilles?

“Welcome to the fifteenth annual Cake and Bake Competition here at the ExCel exhibition and international convention centre in the Custom House area of Newham, East London. I’m your host Thaddeus Dowling. It is quite a scene here at the ExCel centre, cakes and baked goods every direction you look, isn’t that right Arthur?”

The camera shifted focus slightly from Thaddeus Dowling to Arthur Young. The two men from Tadfield had been chosen to host the event this year from a pool of applicants, Thaddeus Dowling the American Cultural Attaché, and Arthur Young a local accountant.

Thad paused a moment for the camera aimed at him to pan over the crowd at the entrance of the ExCel Centre.

“That’s right Thad, it seems as though the convention is so large this year since last year’s was cancelled due to the rampant pandemic that swept through all the corners of the world. To be safe this year the convention centre is following the previous social distancing guidelines of two metres between booths and event stations. Due to that fact part of the competition will be held outside the centre.” Arthur said trying to keep from running his hand to smooth his mustache, which he did often when he was overwhelmed.

He looked over the pink and white banners and flags covering almost every square inch of the buildings entrance and lawn. The white wooden booths that were neatly spread out in two rows on the lawn showed exhibitors that were there to try and win the grand prize of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, a trophy, an article and photo in the paper, and local fame.

“The outdoor events seem to just be taste testing and judging the simpler of the cakes and baked goods versus the more elaborate and ornate ones. As well as decorating booths for kids, Isn’t that right Arthur?” Thad asked as he squinted at the itinerary in his hand and looking up at Arthur.

“That seems to be correct Thad. Did you happen to see the cake that was a life size version of Freddie Mercury? No wonder that exhibit will be inside.” Arthur said, he had been bewildered by the accuracy of the cake he had passed while he and Thad were working on getting their badges, lanyards, and pamphlets from the appropriate people.

“Yes, I believe I did, done by Rose the Cake Diva, quite talented with her hands there isn’t she Arthur?” Thad asked him giving Arthur a salacious nudge with his elbow.

Arthur grimaced at the crude comment and scrambled for a topic change, “Well it looks like the outdoor events will be starting soon, each booth is set up and the bakers belonging to each have on display what they have made. As well as the tasting judges are arriving and assembling. Let’s take a closer look, shall we?” Arthur said starting to lead Thad towards the lush green courtyard where at least twenty booths were lined up for the event. Hundreds of people were milling about not only as contestants in the competition, but also as onlookers, fans, people wanting to taste the amazing treats and see the beautiful displays. Arthur noted and nodded at the four police officers beginning their job as security for the event.

“Looks like some people have made more than just cakes for this part of the event.” Thad noted as they walked past the colorful booths, noting the cakes, pies, cookies, muffins that were on display at each.

“And here are our judges for this portion of the competition, hello!” Thad belted sticking a hand out at the gaggle of judges mingling for the start of the judging. They were all wearing sashes that said JUDGE in big purple letters on a white background, they each held a clipboard and had a nametag.

“Hello,” One woman with a colorful dress and greeted the pair of reporters coming towards the group with a smile,

“Mr. Shadwell, we have reporters here,” She said tugging the elbow of another judge to angle him toward Arthur and Thad.

“It’s Lance Corporal Shadwell you painted parrot.” The gruff looking man snapped at the friendly woman, who just giggled in response waving him off.

“I’m Madame Tracy,” the red-haired woman smiled holding out her hand to shake with Thad and Arthur, “This is Mr. Shadwell,” she nodded to the man who had corrected her, he was shorter than both Thad and Arthur, his shaggy gray hair disheveled around him, his gray goatee and beard almost to the point of scraggly. He wore a large brown coat with a green sweater underneath. He had a few old medals attached to his sweater front from baking competitions in the past.

Mr. Shadwell grunted and looked Thad and Arthur up and down, distaste painted his features.

“And this is Eric Daemon, he’s the tie breaker between me and Mr. S if the judging comes to a tie.” Madame Tracy gestured to a younger man, tall and lanky with his black curled hair up in a pair of spikes, making them look like horns, and thick kohl eye liner rimmed around each eye, he was wearing an elaborate outfit that Thad and Arthur could both only be horrified at. The tight pants and decorative spikes on the shirt.

“Just Eric’s fine loves, pleasure to meet you both.” Eric said extending a fingerless gloved hand and bowing slightly, then, much to their horror, raising Thad and Arthur’s hands to his lips and giving a cheeky peck on both.

“Well, that’s that’s quite an outfit there, Eric.” Arthur stammered as Eric righted himself and tugged on his shirt.

“Thanks mate, I could get you one to match if you’d like, I’m good friends with the shop owner.” Eric said winking at Arthur and raising and eyebrow at Thad.

“Th-that’s, ah, isn’t it time to start judging the treats?” Arthur asked looking at Thad widening his eyes.

“Yes, let’s start, judges, let us get a shot of you all standing together before we go down the booths and taste different things.” Thad said holding his arms out broadly.

Eric stood between Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell; his arms thrown over both of their shoulders pulling them both in closer to himself.

The cameraman that had been filming got a good shot of them all standing together before Eric placed a teasing kiss on Madame Tracy’s cheek. She put a hand to her cheek giggling, and Eric turned to Mr. Shadwell.

“Don’t even think about it laddie.” He growled pointing a finger at Eric threateningly.

Eric chuckled and held up his hands defensively, “Just trying to diffuse the tension.”

Shadwell snarled and began walking toward the beginning of the row of booths.

“Alright, the competition is set to start, ye have two minutes to set yer baked good out on the table. The judges, that’s me and these two numpties,” He jerked a thumb at Madame Tracy and Eric, “Will be rating each dessert on different categories based on that dessert, which you should have a copy of the criteria we will be judging on. Most importantly we are judging the Outside Characteristic, Inside Characteristics, Flavor, Presentation or Appearance, and your recipe card. If you do not place a recipe card next to your dish you are disqualified.” Shadwell announced this loudly so everyone in the vicinity could hear him.

“What all qualifies for each criterion?” Thad whispered to Eric.

Eric grinned and handed Thad a rubric from his clipboard, Arthur looked at it over his shoulder and nodded his head, “Makes sense, Cakes; color, shape, size, volume, surface, grain, texture, flavor. Cookies; color, crust, shape, size, grain, texture, flavor. Pies; color, shape, size, crust, filling, flavor. Muffins; color, crust, shape, grain, texture, flavor. Most of the criteria are similar, but that makes sense.”

“So long as we get to taste it too, I don’t care about the criteria.” Thad mumbled as Arthur pocketed the rubric with a chuckle.

“Judging begins now!” Shadwell shouted as he led the group to the first booth set up.

As they went down the line sampling many different baked goods from local bakeries in London Shadwell would generally say something snarky, Madame Tracy would say something kind, and Eric something outrageous.

“Oh, this bakery is good, I’ve heard wonderful things about them.” Arthur said to Thad as they approached the booth for A Slice of Heaven.

Thad smirked at Arthur, “I heard that they were in a feud with Lucy’s Café, also heard that the people at Lucy’s were the ones who set this place on fire.” He mumbled to him out of earshot of Shadwell who was walking with open arms to the Slice of Heaven booth.

“Ah, finally some quality desserts, not like these cowpie strumpets that these other booths are giving us.” Shadwell shat a half grin at the camera as they approached the booth.

“Mr. Shadwell! So good to see you! I had been wondering if you were going to be one of the judges today!”

“Gabriel Eden, long time since I’ve seen ye laddie, not sure you were even going to make it with that fire ye had. Now what do you and that Aziraphale have ready for me today?” Shadwell asked resting his hands on the tabletop of the booth.

Arthur and Thad noted the man in the booth was there representing A Slice of Heaven, he was wearing a tailored gray suit with a purple tie hanging fashionably around his neck. He didn’t seem like the type to bake anything.

“Well, Aziraphale sadly isn’t with us anymore, but don’t you fret, I decided to bring an old favorite of dads.” Gabriel said with a smile aimed right at Shadwell, ignoring the other two judges, but Madame Tracy had a distrustful look on her face, and Eric looked a bit jumpy.

“Ah your father, miss him so, he was a good brigadier general in our battalion.” Shadwell said placing a hand over the medals pinned to his sweater.

Gabriel nodded solemnly, his hands clasped in front of him.

“I’m sorry to hear about Aziraphale, he was rather young, wasn’t he? About the same age as my own son. I don’t recall hearing on the news about-” Shadwell started as if remembering something in the recesses of his mind.

“He’s not my son Mr. Shadwell, anyhow, this is what I have for you today, special recipe that dad loved to make, his pride and joy besides us children, his apple pie.” Gabriel said gesturing to the apple pie that was sitting on the booth’s tabletop.

“Ah, your father’s apple pie was always my favorite.” Shadwell brightened holding his clipboard up to judge and assess the outward appearance of the pie.

Eric leaned in close and squinted at the pie, “Doesn’t look very appealing.” He muttered standing back upright, then picking up the recipe card to inspect it.

“Just wait till you try it.” Shadwell said beginning to slice into the pie and doll out the slices for each judge as well as Thad and Arthur.

Each of them inspected the filling of the pie as they speared a bite onto their forks.

“It has a nice thickness to it.” Arthur offered, not sure of what other kind of remark he could make about the pie filling before tasting it.

Mr. Shadwell made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, and then turned his attention to the pie. As he took the first bite, the rest of the judges, as well as Arthur and Thad, delicately placed their first bites in their mouths as well.

Gabriel smiled smugly as the judges tasted his pie, Shadwell always loved his dad’s apple pie, this competition was in the bag, once again.

Shadwell spat the pie he had in his mouth out onto the ground and wiped the offending taste out with the sleeve of his coat.

“What in the blasted hells of hades was that?!” He yelped accusingly at Gabriel.

Gabriel’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, he didn’t understand what Shadwell was talking about, he loved his father’s pie, loved Aziraphale’s pie, surely, he would love his pie as well.

“What do you mean Mr. Shadwell? It’s the same recipe we’ve been using for years, the one that dad perfected from the recipe passed down to him, it’s been in the family nearly a century!” Gabriel balked in protest.

“Mr. Eden, I don’t know what recipe you were following but I assure you, if it was for apple pie something is amiss.” Madame Tracy said gently trying to be nice to him, speaking softly.

Gabriel snorted with derision, “I assure you madame, it most certainly is for apple pie, and it is certainly made correctly, it’s my father’s famous apple pie, as I’m sure you heard Mr. Shadwell talking about just moments ago. Look at the recipe card if you don’t believe me.” Gabriel protested, his voice pitching higher.

Eric picked up the recipe card and squinted at it closely, “Is this all what you put in it?” he asked glancing at Gabriel with a smirk.

Gabriel’s face turned a shade of red with indignation, “If it’s an ingredient listed on the recipe card, I assure you, that it is the ingredients to the recipe I used.” Gabriel hissed at Eric.

“I dunno mate, seems like you’ve forgotten something, perhaps the sugar? Or the cinnamon?” Eric read the ingredients off as Madame Tracy nodded along.

“It does seem like you missed on something of flavor, there’s no sweetness to it dear, it’s very, very tart. What kind of apples did you use?” Madame Tracy asked furrowing her brow.

“I don’t know the name of them, they’re apples, how different from one another can they be? They were green, they seemed fine to me.” Gabriel huffed crossing his arms over his chest.

“That may be your problem laddie, those sound like Granny Smith apples, and they are one of the tartest apples out there. Your dad would add in extra sugar to offset the sourness of it, and he’d also add in special ingredients.” Shadwell explained scribbling on the judging sheet for Gabriel’s entry.

“Well, Mr. Shadwell, I’m sure that we can, that er,” Gabriel fumbled for words realizing that this could be the end, that he could lose the competition, lose the war, and he began fidgeting in his pocket while Shadwell shook his head and held a hand up.

“You’ll find out at the end of the judging like everyone else. Sorry lad.” Shadwell said somberly as he began to walk away to the next booth.

The group of judges along with Arthur and Thad walked to the next booth, which was the booth for Lucy’s Café. Conveniently close to each other, surprisingly both patrons of the booths were either ignoring each other, or remaining civil enough in the presence of a crowd to not draw negative attention to either establishment.

“I can see why people would think they set that other place on fire, look at all of them, they look…” Arthur trailed off as his flittering gaze stopped and locked eyes with Stanley DeVille, whose eyes held nothing but malice in them.

Arthur gulped and looked away, his gaze flitting over the rest of the people at this booth, two younger man stood on either side of Stanley, and a young woman with short black hair.

“Mr. DeVille,” Shadwell said, in a rather quiet voice nodding in greeting to the tall man in dark clothing.

Mr. DeVille nodded his head to the group, “Welcome, to the booth for Lucy’s Café, Mr. Shadwell, Madame Tracy, it’s so good to see you both again, as for these other three…” Stan paused, “in case you were unaware, my name is Stanley, Stan DeVille, and I am the owner of Lucy’s Café, these are my children, Bee, Danielle, Hans, and Laurent.”

As Stan spoke each cohort gave a nod, Arthur felt chills going down his spine, each person was looking sinister and creepy by the second, none more so than Stanley himself.

“Stanley, nice to see you again, this is Eric Daemon, Arthur Young, and Thad Dowling. Eric is the third judge for the competition and Arthur and Thad are guest reporters.” Madame Tracy introduced Eric, Arthur, and Thad to Stan, each giving a little wave as she said their names.

“Pleasure.” Stanley said icily looking over the group appraisingly.

“Well, what do you have for us today Mr. DeVille?” Mr. Shadwell asked cupping his hands behind his back and giving his head a little shake.

“I have for you, an old recipe, passed down in the DeVille family, from the very first DeVille, Lucien DeVille, a recipe that he used to make with his own apples in his orchard.” Stanley said proudly, his chest puffing out as he spoke.

“Oh god not another apple pie.” Eric muttered under his breath anticipating what Stanley was going to say.

“Apple Upside Down Cake.” Stanley announced taking a linen napkin from on top of the cake and gesturing to the group at his booth.

Stan watched eagerly as the judges inspected the outward appearance of the cake and scribbled notes on their clipboards.

“The apple slices on the top look so pretty and caramelized.” Madame Tracy said with a smile as she marked a couple spots on her papers.

“Well Stan, it looks pretty delicious, did you make it yourself or did the whole family?” Madame Tracy asked as Eric began slicing the cake for each person to try.

“Why of course, we did it as a family.” Stanley said wrapping an arm around his children on either side of him, Hans and Laurent being the closest two plastered on smiles that weren’t the most convincing.

“It looks delectably moist.” Thad murmured to Arthur, who nodded in agreement as the pair looked at their slices of cake on their plates.

The judges pierced the cake with their forks and took a bite, Mr. Shadwell’s eyes widened, and he began to cough and nearly gag into a handkerchief, Madame Tracy’s face seemed to turn an ill shade of grey, Eric, not so elegantly, spat his bite onto the ground, making disgusted noises as he did so.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Thad, neither of them had taken a bite yet, they each used their forks to slice and further investigate the filling of the cake.

“What, seems to be the issue?” Stan’s voice growled.

Arthur looked at him and quickly glanced away horrified, he didn’t want to be the one to break the news to him that his cake was a disaster.

“The issue is, if I wanted scrambled eggs, I would’ve ordered it with my breakfast!” Eric blurted out thrusting the plate of cake into Stan’s face.

Stan had a look of irritation and malice on his face as he looked at the cake, and using Eric’s fork, bringing a glob of white and yellow cooked egg out of the cake crumbles.

He turned slowly to face his children who were all gathered on the opposite side of the booth, all glancing quickly between each other.

“Who, could be stupid enough, to fuck up, the simpleton task, of stirring the cake mix?!” Stan bellowed slowly, his eyes wild, flitting from one face of his kin to the next.

The shorter daughter jabbed a finger out to the blonde brother, “Hans was supposed to stir!” She yelped trying to stay out of the wrath that certainly was going to be coming their way. The least directed at her the better.

“It was not! I was supposed to watch the timer! It was Laurent who was supposed to stir it all together with that power stirrer!” Hans avoided Bee’s pointing glare and shoved his brother forward.

“No Hans was supposed to stir! I combined everything, Bee watched the timer, Danielle wrote out the recipe card and packaged it, dad you took care of the frosting and the apple toppings, and Hans was supposed to stir!” Laurent argued holding his hands up in a calming gesture to try and bring peace.

Stan glowered at all four of his children, how they grew to be so stupid he wouldn’t know.

Madame Tracy cleared her throat, and Stan remembered that he was in public, as well as in front of judges for the competition.

Stan let a crooked smile stretch over his face and he turned back to the judges, “I do apologize for the mishap with the cake. Surely it isn’t the worst thing here at the competition.” Stan forced a laugh through his clenched smile.

“I dunno, it may tie with the Eden’s pie.” Eric muttered as he leaned forward to throw his plate and cake slice in the bin by the side of the booth.

Stan’s smile froze blankly on his face, “Excuse me?” He asked, his fiery gaze blazing onto Eric.

“I said that your cake may tie with Gabriel Eden’s pie, both had issues in delivery.” Eric mumbled, now not wanting to feel Stan’s wrath as he bore holes into him for talking.

Stan’s face twitched as he turned his gaze back to his children, “How did Eden make a pie to enter if their bakery burned down?” Stan asked, each word coming out in a jagged growl.

“I mean they probably have an oven at home dad.” Laurent said with a shrug.

Stan snarled at his son and glared at him his words unrecognizable for the judges and the reporters.

“If you and your idiot brother had done your jobs correctly, we wouldn’t be in this mess, if you had just done what I told you to do, and do it right, then we wouldn’t be in this mess, You putrid pustulant boils!” Stan shouted at his sons, his voice booming, starting to draw spectators walking by. People stopping and staying at the booth staring at the exchange that was occurring.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at Thad, “Seems like an exaggerated response for a messed-up cake.” He murmured.

Stan’s nostrils flared at the comment he heard from one of the reporters, he spun to face them, his eyes wild, his breathing hard, “Silence!” He shouted.

The judges looked at him startled, Madame Tracy cowered slightly, and Arthur and Thad took a step back from the booth. Shadwell and Eric took a step forward, as if to shelter Madame Tracy and the guest reporters from anything amiss happening.

“C’mon dad, it’s not that big of a deal,” Bee started to say nonchalantly and then faltered into silence when she saw the poisonous look her father shot her.

“Beatrice, you’re lucky you have some brains in your head, otherwise I would be lumping you in with these idiots who can’t even follow directions!” Stan glancing at Bee and waving a hand disgruntledly.

“Dad, really, don’t be so hard on him.” The red-haired daughter, Danielle mumbled gently, not wanting to feel any wrath herself.

“Danielle, I’m surprised you weren’t the one to fuck this up, you hardly did a thing to contribute to the task!” Stanley whirled onto her, and she lowered her gaze to the ground.

“Dad, it’s not,” Hans started to interrupt, glancing around at the crowd growing thicker around their booth, faltering under his father’s icy gaze.

“Dad, we followed all the directions you gave us!” Laurent balked, his chin sticking out indignantly, fearfully, wanting to stick up for himself and his brother.

“Clearly not if the Eden’s can still enter the competition, clearly not if that fat baker is still alive, clearly not if the eggs did not get properly MIXED IN THE CAKE!” Stan thundered, his voice exploding in the small space, reverberating off the wooden booth, exclaiming to the crowd.

Arthur blinked, surprised at what he was hearing, he glanced around the small group he was in and they all seemed equally surprised and confused, what did Stan mean about the Eden’s and the baker?

“’Ha! That’s what we were waiting for!” An unfamiliar voice barked from the crowd.

Arthur looked to see a tall thin man with red hair limping past him, holding an arm of a heavier blonde man for support as they walked, with the four police officers he had seen before following them.

Thad leaned to the cameraman that had been filming them so far that day, “Are you getting this?” He hissed at him.

The cameraman nodded with a grin, “This will get us the best viewings by far.” He said adjusting the gaze on the scene playing out before them.

The two men led the police officers to the Lucy’s Café booth, and they walked behind the tabletop and joined the DeVille family.

“Excuse me?” Stanley asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at the red-haired man. His tone may have been surprised but his eyes were dark and deadly.

“Officers? If you, please.” The blonde man said waving a hand at the DeVille family.

“What do you think you’re doing? Unhand me!” Stanley shouted as one of the police officers began to handcuff his hands behind his back. His sons and Bee balking loudly as they were simultaneously handcuffed. Stanley, Bee, and Hans all jerking and fighting the handcuffs being put on them, Laurent stood there motionless as the officer handcuffed him, not fighting, not protesting, just biting his bottom lip and waiting for instructions.

“Stanley DeVille, you are under arrest for attempted homicide, first- and second-degree arson, as well as assault and battery charges.” The dark-haired police officer cuffing Stanley said as Stanley struggled to get out of his grasp.

“Excuse me?” Stanley balked whirling around to face the red-haired man that had led the police to the booth.

“Yeah, see the thing is the police heard your little tantrum a minute ago when you were laying into Hans and Laurent there. And that was just enough evidence to get you locked up, convicted, and sentenced to prison.” The red-haired man said, his eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, but the smirk that played across his lips was devious.

Stanley scoffed, “I doubt that! That was only verbal frustrations getting out, expression of anger. I didn’t confess to anything.” Stanley glanced over his shoulder at the police officer who was stoic as he continued to restrain Stanley.

“Surely that isn’t enough to warrant handcuffing and an arret officer.” His voice was smooth like honey, his gaze flickering to his children, a sense of calm falling over them.

“Well, no, not that in itself, that was just showing everyone what an incorrigible, whiny, wanker you are. But this…” the red-haired man gestured at the heavyset blonde man who held up a cell phone and wiggled it in his grasp.

“Will be enough.” The redhaired man reached over and tapped the phone and an amplified recording boomed from the small speaker port.

“Hans and Laurent set the fire, and they did a very good job of it too. Made sure everything went up in flames.” The inexplicable voice of Stanley paused a moment in the recording “Well almost a very good job, you’re still here. As well as the baker I believe?”

“Yes, Aziraphale is still alive, no thanks to them and no thanks to you.” Another voice on the recording echoed through the booth, the redhaired man looked at the blonde next to him and his eyebrows tilted upward.

“Pity, guess they didn’t completely finish the job as they were instructed.” Stanley’s voice began again.

“You told them to kill him?” the second voice, which was now more recognizable as the redhaired man’s voice faltered over the recording.

“Not in so many words, that’s hard for them to comprehend all at once. I believe the exact phrasing I used was, ‘set the fire, leave no witnesses, leave no survivors, no matter who is there.’ Pity they didn’t follow directions. Then I wouldn’t be getting taken away from my work right now.” Stanley’s voice was clear and ringing through the air.

Stanley DeVille looked ashen, his face had gone snow white and his eyes wide with what one could only describe as fear.

“See uncle, this, this is plenty evidence to convict all of you.” The redhaired man said now holding and wiggling the phone at Stanley.

Stanley sputtered incoherently as the police officer started going over his charges, the other officers’ voices blending with his as they went over the charges for Hans and Laurent,

“Nephew, Anthony, please, don’t do this, think of the family, the business, think of us!” Stanley balked at the redhaired man.

“Oh, so now I’m family?” Anthony cackled with a scoffing laugh turning away from his uncle.

“We didn’t even do anything to help with the fire or murder attempts!” Bee protested fighting against the police officer that was dealing with her, arguing with him and the one with Danielle.

“Ma’ams, you are being charged with being an accessory after the fact of the crime.” The officer stated grimly.

As the DeVilles were being led out from behind the booth Stanley jerked toward the redhaired man and the blonde man standing next to him.

“You will regret this.” He hissed through his teeth lunging at the redhaired man.

“And you will regret trying to off the man I love.” The man with red hair growled getting equally in Stanley’s face.

Stanley snarled at the redhaired man as the police officer jerked him to the side and continued to lead him away.

As the DeVilles continued to be led away a loud booming laugh sounded over the group, getting closer to the front of the crowd. Stopping just to the left of the judges and reporters.

“Oh, what divine justice.” Gabriel Eden laughed as he watched the DeVilles be led away from the booth and toward the parking lot.

The redhaired man shared a look with the heavyset blonde man, who winked at him.

“Funny you should mention that uncle.” The blonde man said stepping from behind the booth with the redhaired man, stopping at the front right of the judges.

Mr. Shadwell shook his head and inspected the blonde man’s face more carefully as he looked between him and Gabriel Eden.

“Aziraphale? Is that you?” He asked stepping forward reaching toward the blonde heavyset man.

“Hello Mr. Shadwell.” The blonde man, Arthur assumed was the Aziraphale Eden that Mr. Shadwell and Gabriel Eden had discussed before, said with a small smile.

“I thought ye were dead, you told me he was dead!” Mr. Shadwell said painfully looking at Aziraphale and then turning swiftly to face Gabriel Eden.

“I never in fact said the words that he was dead, though I wish he were.” Gabriel said icily looking at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale held a hand in front of Anthony as he took a step toward Gabriel, a snarl on his face.

“It’s alright dearest.” Aziraphale said to Anthony gently, trying to keep him calm.

“Mr. Shadwell, I am in fact alive, if it weren’t for my dear Anthony I would have perished in that fire.” Aziraphale said turning to Mr. Shadwell, his face grim.

“Well, I’m glad ye are alive boy, you were the best ‘o the lot.” Shadwell said jerking his head toward Gabriel.

Aziraphale smiled at Shadwell, and then he turned back to his uncle, “As I was saying, it was funny of you to say that uncle, about the divine justice and all.” Aziraphale glanced at Anthony and Anthony turned and waved a hand toward, as if to beckon someone closer.

Gabriel looked at Aziraphale his eyebrow cocking upward, surprise filling his gaze as a woman and another police officer stepped forward.

“Uncle, you remember Mrs. Willoughby,” Aziraphale nodded at the woman who stepped forward.

“Of course, hello Mrs. Willoughby.” Gabriel grinned looking at her slight confusion in his eyes.

“Hello Mr. Eden, officer, this man here.” Mrs. Willoughby said nodding at Gabriel.

The police officer began walking toward Gabriel Eden pulling his handcuffs out.

“I beg your pardon! What in the world are you doing?” Gabriel protested jerking away from the police officer and looking wildly at Mrs. Willoughby and Aziraphale.

“Mr. Eden, you are under arrest for insurance fraud.” The police officer said as he clicked the handcuffs around Gabriel’s wrists.

“Excuse me?” Gabriel roared his gaze spinning to Mrs. Willoughby, “I did no such thing!” He shouted.

“Actually Mr. Eden, you filed a claim of fire loss and damage to the bakery.” Mrs. Willoughby stated gently holding out a folded piece of paper that she had retrieved from her pocket.

“Of course, I did, it was all over the news, everyone knows about the fire, the damages, the loss, and that the DeVilles set the fire not me!” Gabriel protested angrily.

“Your coverage with AppleWall Insurance lapsed due to late or nonpayment, any claims made before your next payment consists as fraud.” Mrs. Willoughby stated raising an eyebrow at him.

Gabriel’s wild eyes flickered between her and Aziraphale, who was smirking at him.

“I pay my bills, my bills are paid, in full, and on time uncle. Just as you always preached.” Aziraphale stated tilting his chin upward.

Gabriel gave a disgruntled snort as the officer began to lead him away from the booth and the crowd.

“Well, that was an interesting turn of events here at the Cake and Bake Competition.” Arthur stated looking at the camera grinning nervously.

“Well, let’s not dilly dally, let’s move on to the next contestant then.” Mr. Shadwell stated breaking away from the crowd and walking to the next booth.

The crowd around the booth for Lucy’s Café dispersed and the judges and reporters made it to the next booth, though no one was standing with the pie that was on display.

“What in the hells bells now?” Mr. Shadwell muttered as he looked around for anyone in or around the booth.

“Sorry, sorry.” The redhaired man from before, Anthony, slipped in the back of the booth from behind the pink canvas that decorated it, Aziraphale right behind him.

“Sorry for the delay in our arrival, the crowd took a couple moments to thin out.” Aziraphale said sheepishly.

Mr. Shadwell burst into laughter, shortly joined by the rest of the crew around them.

“Alright then Aziraphale, what have ye got?” Mr. Shadwell asked wiping a humorous tear from his eye.

Aziraphale smiled at Anthony, Anthony reached up and grasped Aziraphale’s hand in his.

“Welcome to the booth of the newest bakery in London, Ineffable Eclairs.” Aziraphale stated his voice full of grandeur.

Anthony snickered next to him, “It’s still a work in progress, but it sounds alright.” He gave Aziraphale a smitten look from behind his sunglasses.

“Oh, as some of you may have gathered, I am Aziraphale Eden, and this is Anthony Crowley. I can see that I already know two of you.” Aziraphale said introducing himself and Anthony to the group of judges and the reporters with a nod to Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell.

“I’m Eric Daemon,” Eric said with a little wave.

“I’m Arthur Young and this is Thad Dowling, we are here doing a report on the competition.” Arthur said introducing himself and Thad to the pair.

“A pleasure.” Aziraphale smiled.

Anthony cleared his throat, “Well, everyone, this is what we’ve baked for you today.” He said gesturing to the pie on the booth’s tabletop.

The judges leaned forward a bit to look at the pie neatly placed on the tabletop, the recipe card next to it had lovely, sweet script “Monte-Bellaria Lavender Apple Pie” with little flowers and fleur de lis’ decorating the borders.

“Well, it can’t be any worse than the last two.” Eric stated looking over the recipe card.

Shadwell laughed and then sliced a piece for each of the judges including Arthur and Thad.

Aziraphale and Anthony grinned as slow smiles spread across each of their faces as the flavors washed over their palates.

“This is marvelous.” Eric announced taking another bite of the pie.

“Absolutely scrummy dears.” Madame Tracy hummed as she took another bite.

“Aziraphale, ye have ye father’s greatness in ye lad. This is pure talent.” Shadwell praised Aziraphale with a gruff compliment.

Aziraphale felt a warmth in his chest, and felt Anthony squeezing his hand. He glanced up and met the golden gaze of his beloved and he smiled.

“Anthony of course helped in the creation of the pie.” Aziraphale said pointedly giving Anthony a peck on the cheek.

“Nah I didn’t do much.” Anthony brushed off shyly.

“How can this possibly taste so good?” Eric groaned reaching for another slice of pie.

“Well, we used a combination of sweet and tart firm apples, Granny Smith and HoneyCrisp, that way you get an equal balance of both.” Aziraphale explained.

“Yeah, and then after peeling and slicing the apples we tossed them with sugar and set them aside to soften, then we drained the and discarded the liquid left over.” Anthony chimed in.

Once the last crumbs of the pie was gone Shadwell, Eric, and Madame Tracy began to talk together, Anthony was tucked gently under Aziraphale’s arm, resting his head on top of his, using the blonde curls as a pillow.

“Though we still have more desserts to try, we’d like to let you know that we’ll be surprised if your pie doesn’t win the competition.” Madame Tracy said with a smile beamed at the couple.

“Of course, we will await the final judging, we’ll see you at the end.” Anthony said waving as the judges and reporters walked away to the next booth.

Anthony punched the air with glee and then wrapped his long arms around Aziraphale’s soft torso and squeezed him tightly in a hug as Aziraphale giggled in Anthony’s ear.

“I think we did it darling.” Aziraphale murmured into Anthony’s chest.

“I think we bloody well did.” Anthony kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head amongst the curls, and then took his hand and led him to the judging area of the competition where the winner would later be announced.

Anthony and Aziraphale sat and waited, their hands entwined together, as the other members of the competition joined them in the seating area waiting for the judges final ruling.

About half an hour later the three judges went to the front of the waiting crowd, the reporters now at the back to record everything.

Shadwell held his hands up to wait for silence, “We have our winners, ye were all good and tasty, well except for the first two gits at the beginning. But nevertheless. In third place, Cordelia’s Cookies with her peanut butter paprika cookies,” Shadwell paused as the owner of Cordelia’s Cookies walked up to the small area where the judges stood to receive her prize.

“In second place, Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater’s Pumpkin bread.” Shadwell rolled his eyes as the owner of the bakery, Peter Landing laughed and joined them.

“And lastly, in first place, the Ineffable Eclairs, with their Monte-Bellaria Lavender Apple Pie!” Shadwell announced the last winner with a big grin, as cheers and clapping sounded around them.

Anthony and Aziraphale rose together and walked up to where the judges were.

As the judges began to hand out the rewards, and the reporters began interviewing the winners Anthony squeezed Aziraphale’s plump hand in his and leaned closely to him, feeling all the warmth and softness that he was pressing against his slender frame.

“I think we did it darling.” Anthony murmured into Aziraphale’s ear, kissing him on the cheek as he did so.

Aziraphale grinned and looked up at Anthony, “I think we bloody well did.” Aziraphale replied, giving Anthony a return kiss at the corner of his lips.

The pair gazed at each other grinning, even as the reporters and judges arrived, nothing else mattered in the world, but each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter 😭


	35. Chapter 35.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After winning the baking competition Anthony and Aziraphale open up their shop, settle into their cottage in the South Downs, and life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter and I am bawling.  
> This chapter was so hard to write because I didn't want it to end.  
> I do plan on gathering all of the recipes and baked goods i have listed throughout the fic and finding the recipes that I referenced and bundle them all together as a very last last chapter.

Chapter 35

“Angel, no offense, but we have got to change the name of the shop.” Anthony griped as he walked over to where Aziraphale was standing by the sitting area.

“What’s wrong with Ineffable Éclairs?” Aziraphale asked with a sniff, he wasn’t too upset by the want for a name change, but he thought Ineffable Éclairs was cute.

“It’s too, blargh,” Anthony groaned waving a hand as he sat down with a whump in a big ornate red cushioned winged back chair that they had found at an antique shop.

“Well I can’t argue with that logic.” Aziraphale said dryly pursing his lips and raising an eyebrow at Anthony.

“We just, we came up with it off the cuff at the competition, and it was cute, but I don’t know if I like it for a business name, it sounds more like the name of just a bakery or just a café, than a bookshop and a café. And I don’t want your shop to get neglected or miss getting recognized due to a name.” Anthony admitted with a sigh not wanting to hurt Aziraphale’s feelings.

“That’s sweet dearest,” Aziraphale murmured coming over and placing a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony smiled weakly at Aziraphale, trying to imagine Ineffable Éclairs on a business sign.

“I like the alliteration, and it’s cute, has a pun in the name.” Aziraphale pointed out with a small smile.

“If you like alliteration and puns then I can come up with at least twenty better than that, and it would tie in that we are a book shop as well as a café.” Anthony said adamantly.

“Go ahead then,” Aziraphale said matching Anthony’s challenge and crossing his arms over his chest.

Anthony grinned cockily and raised an eyebrow, “Alright then, how about ‘The Taming of the Strudel’?” Anthony suggested with a wave of his hand.

Aziraphale gaped at him, “What?” He yelped, Anthony wanted to change the name of the shop to that?

“Okay no for that one, how about, ‘Much Ado About Muffin’? ‘The Bundt for Red October’?” Anthony rattled off, his leg beginning to bounce with the glee he was getting with giving Aziraphale a hard time.

“Wha- you, b-but, those are horribly too long for a shop’s name!” Aziraphale balked not wanting to crush Anthony’s creative spirits, but also refusing entirely to have those horrendous puns on the name of their building.

“How about… ‘The Crepes of Wrath’? Or ‘The TellTale Tart’?” Anthony asked unable to hide the eruption of giggles that was about to slip from behind his smirk.

“Oh you rotten man.” Aziraphale swatted a hand at Anthony, who grabbed it and pulled Aziraphale down into his lap amid an eruption of giggles.

“Oh dearest,” Aziraphale protested as Anthony wrapped his arms around him and pulled him gingerly closer to his chest. Aziraphale didn’t want to put his full weight down on Anthony’s lap for fear of hurting him, he slid his legs down the lower seated cushioning of the chair and focused shifting his weight there. Though Anthony’s embrace kept drawing him closer to him and to where he would be fully on his lap.

Anthony could feel the tension in Aziraphale’s form, and he furrowed his brow and looked up at him questioningly, “Everything alright angel?” He asked gingerly.

“I-er- I don’t want to hurt you, I’m too heavy.” Aziraphale admitted with a blush spreading across his face, highlighting the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Anthony frowned, “Aziraphale, I promise you are not too heavy for me, nor will you hurt me. Do you trust me?” Anthony asked raising an eyebrow.

Aziraphale frowned, still concerned that at his weight he would cause pain to Anthony if he were to sit on his lap and put all of his weight down rather than a third of it like he was doing.

“I trust you darling.” Aziraphale murmured.

Anthony carefully slid one hand under the back of Aziraphale’s knees and brought them up to the side, and he wrapped his other arm around Aziraphale’s back, as if he were cradling a child, or carrying a bride over the threshold of a new home.

“See? I’m alright, it doesn’t hurt a bit. But if you are not comfortable, I won’t push the matter, just know that I’m comfy cozy keen.” Anthony crooned nuzzling his face against Aziraphale’s neck.

Aziraphale chuckled at Anthony’s choice of words but still held himself tensely, he didn’t want to wiggle too much and suddenly cause Anthony pain, “Are you sure it’s not, that I’m not too much?” Aziraphale asked, turning his head slightly to look at Anthony, to meet those golden eyes with his own.

“You are not, nor will you ever be, too much angel.” Anthony whispered gently into Aziraphale’s neck.

Anthony gently guided Aziraphale closer to his chest where he could lean against him comfortably, his long arms cradling him as if he were the most delicate conception on earth. Anthony could feel Aziraphale relaxing as he leaned against him, felt his tense body soften.

Anthony smiled to himself as he rested his cheek against Aziraphale’s shoulder, feeling as if he were in a state of heavenly bliss, surrounded by all the softest clouds in creation.

“I adore you angel, you are the most utterly perfect being in the world, formed by clouds and feathers.” Anthony crooned as he let the hand holding up Aziraphale’s back start moving gently, tracing hearts in the softness of Aziraphale’s back.

Aziraphale smiled shyly and lifted his arm to drape it around Anthony’s shoulders, “I believe my dear, that you are the most utterly perfect being in the world.” He purred turning to face Anthony instead of looking around his shoulder at him.

Anthony smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s neck, as Aziraphale sighed happily Anthony stretched his neck and placed a second delicate kiss right at the rounded corner of Aziraphale’s jaw where his double chin began to form, a spot that Anthony knew was ticklish.

Aziraphale shrieked in surprise and Anthony laughed as he placed several quick kisses in succession on that ticklish spot of his dear ones face.

Aziraphale wiggled to get out of the reach of Anthony’s lips, but he felt Anthony’s long slender arms wrap around him tighter and pull him closer into him.

Aziraphale turned slightly and reached his other arm over to tickle Anthony’s sides, making Anthony yelp in turn, though he couldn’t wiggle away from Aziraphale, who laughed at the form of torture he was impeding onto his love.

Anthony was wheezing and gasping for air as he brayed with laughter as Aziraphale’s plump fingers danced along his sides. Though he was being medievally tortured, he held Aziraphale close to him. Burying his face in Aziraphale’s soft side where the gentle swooping dips and arcs rested on top of one another, he relished this moment. Where he didn’t have to be on edge, he didn’t have to be anxious of slipping something, revealing something that would ruin everything.

He was safe, they were safe, here in their own haven.

Anthony quickly raised his head, startling Aziraphale, making him worry that Anthony was hurt in some way.

“Dearest? What is it?” Aziraphale asked cautiously, his touch feather light, his voice a murmur of worry.

“I’ve got it, the name.” Anthony said, his golden gaze meeting Aziraphale’s clear blue eyes.

“Oh, please tell me that it is better than ‘The Catcher in the Pie’, good lord would that be terrible.” Aziraphale said with an eyeroll.

Anthony smiled gingerly, “How about, A&A’s Safe Haven?” He suggested, his voice low, afraid of the rejection in case Aziraphale didn’t like the name.

Aziraphale’s face brightened and he wrapped his arms around Anthony giving him a hug so suddenly he would have knocked Anthony over if he hadn’t been sitting in a chair.

“Anthony darling! That is utterly perfect!” Aziraphale exclaimed wrapping his arms around Anthony so tightly and with such gusto that if Anthony hadn’t been sitting down, he would have been knocked over.

“I’m glad you like it.” Anthony laughed giving Aziraphale a tight hug back.

“Now that we know the name, we can cross so many things off of our list, tomorrow we can call the sign maker, and you could order up the banners and business cards…” Aziraphale began rattling off listing tasks off his fingers.

Anthony smiled at the utter enthusiasm radiating from Aziraphale as he talked about the shop. Aziraphale caught him staring and he blushed, “What is it darling?” He asked shyly.

Anthony laced his fingers with Aziraphale’s, “Nothing, I just love you, so very much angel.” He murmured sitting up closer and giving Aziraphale a tender kiss, gentle to not bruise the delicate cupid’s bow of his lips.

Aziraphale blushed and smiled, he returned Anthony’s kiss, and then leaned against his chest, resting his head to the side, tenderly, his blonde curls and Anthony’s wavy auburn hair almost interweaving.

**

“It’s opening day dearest, are you ready?” Aziraphale asked Anthony as he helped him load the display case with the various dessert items he had made for their shop’s grand opening.

“I believe so, I can’t think of anything else I need to do on my end for the café. Can you think of anything you need to do for the bookshop?” Anthony wiped his hands on his apron and looked up from the display case to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale smirked, “As if anyone will be coming in to buy any books from the bookshop, all the advertising was for the café.”

“Bastard.” Anthony muttered fondly as he closed the display case on the baked goods he and Aziraphale had prepared for the opening.

“Should have just said we opened a book museum with a café, instead of a shop.” Anthony teased as Aziraphale swatted at him with a grin.

“Do you think this will be enough? Should I start making some more pies and cookies?” Anthony fretted pulling at the hem of his apron while he counted the treats under the display case.

“We have more than enough dearest, we have these, plus the ones that we premade and froze, as well as a rolling rack worth of things to refresh the display case with if we run out.” Aziraphale gently reminded Anthony for the second or third time that morning.

“Sorry angel, I keep forgetting, it isn’t right in front of me and I keep forgetting they even exist.” Anthony apologized looking up at Aziraphale regretfully.

Aziraphale walked over to Anthony and wrapped his arms around his thin waist surprising him. Anthony smiled tentatively and then rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“No need to apologize dearest.” Aziraphale murmured, giving Anthony a gentle squeeze.

“No, ‘m s-sorry I just…” Anthony began to protest before Aziraphale shushed him gently running his plump hands down his back soothingly.

“It’s all right dear. I’m here with you every step of the way, I won’t leave your side all day if that’s what it takes for you to be at ease darling.” Aziraphale murmured as he rubbed Anthony’s back up and down gently.

Anthony took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly until the nervous tears that had been threatening to spill retreated and he could breathe without a quiver of anxiety in his breath.

“’m sorry to be such a mess, ‘m excited and nervous for this all to open up. I get to bake and decorate which is what I love, and I get to do it with you by my side, or adjacent to my side when you’re at the bookshop’s register, which you’re what I love most in this world.” Anthony sputtered on rambling until he met Aziraphale’s gaze and laughed, “Sorry to be such a mess.” He apologized again with a laugh.

“You are perfectly fine darling. There is no rush to open if you aren’t ready, we can postpone if necessary.” Aziraphale spoke gently.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale, “I’m just afraid, there’s so much good happening to me, to us, right now, and I’m afraid something will happen to take it all away.” Anthony whispered, his voice small and wavering with nerves and fear.

“I can’t guarantee that something bad won’t happen, but what I can guarantee dear, is that I’ll be right here with you no matter what.” Aziraphale reassured pressing his forehead gently against Anthony’s.

Anthony closed his eyes and took in another deep breath, and slowly exhaled, a smile played across his lips as he caught Aziraphale’s gaze again.

Aziraphale lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

“I’m ready.” Anthony said as he nodded his head with reserve.

Aziraphale grinned and he unwrapped his arms from around Anthony, and then laced his plump fingers with Anthony’s thin ones, and they walked to the front doors of the shop together.

As they approached the front doors, they peeked through the glass windows along the front of the shop, seeing the small crowd that had gathered for their opening. Most of them were regular customers of Aziraphale’s who had missed his various treats from the bakery. A handful Anthony recognized as his customers from previous cake orders he had taken and done.

The knots in his stomach began to untie at the more familiar faces he saw in the crowd waiting. He smiled at them as they opened the doors and unlocked the doors.

They each held open a door as the intimate gathering began to spill inside the building, eyes wide at the vast collection of books on display as they muddled toward the café. In the amount of time between the fire and opening the shop Aziraphale and Anthony had had immense luck at estate sales and auctions where they had obtained a nice number of books for the shop, as well as shelving and some comfortable places to sit and read.

“Not so comfortable as to encourage them to actually want to purchase a book, but comfortable enough for them to sit and enjoy a scone or a slice of pie.” Aziraphale had sniffed when they were arranging the moderately comfortable sofa by the windows.

“Absolutely diabolical you are angel.” Anthony laughed as he gave the sofa another shove, securing it in place on the rug near the window.

Aziraphale had chuckled at that, jutting his chin out with a smirk.

“What will you do if someone does want to buy a book? I mean we can’t just throw them out on account of them coming into a bookshop to buy books.” Anthony asked cocking an auburn eyebrow skywards.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, “I’ll have Newton fix the register to have an implode button so if that happens it won’t let any sales go through.” He said after a moment of thought.

Anthony roared with laughter at that thought, “Newton can’t find the on button for a computer, what makes you think he can program the register to self-destruct?” Anthony barked through laughter.

“Maybe I’ll ask Anathema.” Aziraphale muttered as he fluffed a cushion of the sofa.

Anthony smiled at the memory as he and Aziraphale made their way past the group of people that had come into the shop and were waiting at the café to be helped. His golden gaze flickered to Aziraphale who was smiling at him as they made their way behind the counter of the café and began to help the first person in line.

Turns out people really liked their alliterative nicknames from the Cake and Bake Competition, and they kept calling them the Ineffable Éclairs. Unless they had known Anthony or Aziraphale previously, Aziraphale’s old regular customers greeted him exuberantly as Mr. Eden or just plain Aziraphale. The rest of the crowd called them the Ineffable Éclairs, or just the champions, or winner as they were being served at the counter, for winning the competition as well as taking down two of the city’s most prominent and egregious families.

“Mr. Aziraphale!” A familiar face to both of them greeted as they approached the counter.

“Oh Newton, I’m so glad to see you here, and you as well Anathema.” Aziraphale greeted with a warm smile.

“Hello Mr. Crowley, glad to see you’re able to get around without wheels now.” Anathema smirked eyeing Anthony’s walking boot.

“Yeah, yeah, witchy little one you are.” Anthony snarked at her with a wrinkle of his nose. He and Anathema got along well, which Aziraphale was glad for. Other than Anthony, Newton was his only good friend and it made Aziraphale happy that Anthony not only got along with Newton, but with Anathema as well.

Anathema made a face at Anthony, and they all started laughing.

“What can we get you both? On the house whatever you want.” Anthony asked gesturing to the display case with a wide arc of his arm.

“Hmm, these are all interesting flavors,” Newton murmured as his bespectacled gaze flitted over the items in the display case.

“Blueberry basil pie, Apple whiskey pie, Lemon chess pie, Blueberry lavender pie, Bourbon pecan pie, mini lemon saffron torte, Peanut butter paprika cookies, Chocolate lavender muffins… Do you have anything of a normal flavor?” Anathema teased Anthony with a smile as she read off the placards of each dessert.

“We have a selection of éclairs, we have raspberry-rose pastry cream filled, strawberry cheesecake, strawberry shortcake, raspberry, triple chocolate, coffee, maple, chocolate, and strawberry rose chocolate covered.” Aziraphale listed naming all the éclairs that they had panic and impulsively made at two o’clock that morning.

“Well, not really in an éclair mood, what else do you have my good sirs?” Anathema joked giving them a hard time.

“Well of course if you want more traditional desserts and breads, we also have double chocolate chip cookies, strawberry torte, peach pie, lemon meringue pie, zeppoles, vanilla almond biscottis, chocolate hazelnut biscottis, panettone loaves, brioche loaves, bazlama loaves, baguettes, and pain de mie.” Anthony listed pointing out the other section of the display case.

Anathema and Newton looked over the different displays of pastries and breads before deciding on slices of the apple whiskey pie, and a chocolate lavender muffin apiece. Anathema also ordered a peanut butter paprika cookie, more adventurous than Newton who ordered a more traditional double chocolate chip cookie.

As the day went on Anthony and Aziraphale had to restock the display case with half of the items on the rolling rack and had to bake three of the premade and frozen pies.

A few customers had straggled over to the book in the shop, making Aziraphale on high alert, but they had mainly just browsed and used the sofa chairs to sit in after their treat from the café.

“We need to get a sign for the hours we’ll be open.” Anthony mumbled to himself as he flipped the open sign on the front doors to closed and locked them for the day.

“We would likely need a set schedule for that.” Aziraphale pointed out with a smirk as he wrapped the baked goods in the display case up to keep them fresh overnight.

“True enough, we’ll just play it by ear for now yeah?” Anthony suggested with an eyebrow raise as he came around the café counter to Aziraphale.

Anthony leaned his back against the counter, stretching his long limbs out in all directions, and then knotted his fingers behind his head.

“Tired dear? I can finish up if you’d like to rest.” Aziraphale offered noting the relaxed state Anthony rested in.

“’m not, just taking a moment to really, relish this feeling.” Anthony said unknotting his fingers and lowering his hands, pushing himself off the counter.

He sauntered over to Aziraphale, his long limbs waving back and forth at his sides until he reached him, then he gently wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, hugging him from behind. Threading his arms under Aziraphale’s plump upper arms, he slithered them along his plush sides, his hands and arms following the gentle swooping arcs that the sweet collection of weight formed, his fingers lingering with their touch, and finally draping his hands and arms around to Aziraphale’s tummy, his hands gently touching, almost cradling his soft wide belly. Anthony nuzzled his face into the nape of Aziraphale’s neck and placed a gentle lingering kiss there.

Aziraphale felt his heartbeat begin to quicken, as he felt Anthony slowly, gently, delicately, wrap his arms around him, he felt a trail of heat follow each lingering whisper of a touch that Anthony placed on him. As his arms reached around him and held, almost cradled his belly from behind, Anthony placed a delicate kiss at the nape of his neck. Aziraphale could feel Anthony resting his chest against his back, and he gave him a hug that squeezed his heart.

“This is one of the best feelings in the world.” Anthony murmured into Aziraphale’s neck.

“I daresay I am likened to agree with you there.” Aziraphale sighed, wholly feeling Anthony’s embrace.

“Though,” he added hesitantly, making Anthony stiffen against him.

Aziraphale turned around in Anthony’s embrace to where they were facing each other.

“I do enjoy this feeling as well, if not more so.” Aziraphale’s whisper soft words caressed Anthony’s cheek as Aziraphale reached one hand around, encircling his waist and resting at the small of his back, and the other hand cradling the side of his angular face, his thick fingers weaving through Anthony’s flaming hair, gently pulling his face closer to him, and delicately placing a kiss on his lips. He felt Anthony’s lips curl into a smile under the touch of his kiss and felt Anthony' arms wrap around his waist and bringing him closer, letting himself get lost in the sensations of their bodies pressing together, barely a hairsbreadth of space between them.

Their lips parted from one another to catch their breath, Anthony relishing the softness of Aziraphale surrounding him, Aziraphale relishing the delicate features of Anthony under his gentle touch.

“What do you say, we get out of here and get back to our cottage, and celebrate our successful grand opening?” Anthony asked raising an eyebrow and letting a hand slither down Aziraphale’s back and resting solidly on the curve of his rear.

A deep blush stained Aziraphale’s face making his eyes shimmer and the freckles on his nose and cheeks stand out.

“So? What do you say angel?” Anthony asked, his voice low with a growl teasing Aziraphale, a wolfish grin on his face.

“I-I d-daresay, why ha-haven’t we l-left yet?” Aziraphale stuttered out, his blush deepening.

**

Anthony stood upright as he pulled the roast chicken out of the oven, he gingerly placed it on the countertop and leaned in to inspect his labor of love.

“Oh, that smells heavenly.” Aziraphale breathed as he walked into the kitchen from the living room, where he had been sitting in the window seat that the bay windows made into a perfect reading nook.

“Thanks Angel, I’m working on a new recipe, once we sit at the table, we can work on eating it. No sneaking bites beforehand.” He swatted a dishtowel at Aziraphale as he tried to sneak a bite of the hot food while Anthony’s back was turned.

Aziraphale grinned sheepishly and grabbed the silverware to set the table with while Anthony started to carve the bird and dole out the vegetables that he had prepared with the chicken,

Aziraphale hummed to himself as he set the two spots at their dining room table. He adjusted the vase of tulips that rested on the center of the table and placed the silverware at each seat.

“Dearest, what would you like to drink?” Aziraphale called to Anthony as he went to the kitchen hutch that held the few different bottles of wine they had.

“You pick, I like em all.” Anthony called back nonchalantly as he sliced and plated the chicken and vegetables on two separate plates, arranging it as artistically as he could.

He smiled to himself as he arranged Aziraphale’s vegetables in the shape of a heart when he felt a pair of plush arms wrap around his middle hugging him from behind. He felt the deliberately slow threading of Aziraphale’s plump arms along his slender sides, Aziraphale glided them along his delicate frame, his plump hands and arms following the flattened and indented bones and crevices that formed at Anthony’s hips and sides, he felt Aziraphale’s plump fingers lingering with their firm yet soft touch, and finally draping his hands and arms around to Anthony’s flat stomach, his hands gently touching folding over one another, cradling Anthony against his soft torso. Aziraphale nuzzled his face into the nape of Anthony’s neck and placed a gentle lingering kiss there.

“Well, hello there,” Anthony murmured, turning his head so that he could peek over his shoulder at Aziraphale, whose plump chin was now resting on Anthony’s pointed shoulder.

In response Aziraphale gave him a tight squeeze and kissed his neck again. Anthony chuckled and layered his slender arms over Aziraphale’s, and he leaned back slightly, letting himself relax fully against Aziraphale’s soft chest and belly, he sighed happily, turning his face to nuzzle against Aziraphale’s plump cheek.

“Dearest?” Aziraphale murmured, his voice hesitant.

Anthony hummed in response, not wanting to move from their embrace yet, he had been finding ever excuse to be close to Aziraphale, to hold him close and to be held by him, not that he needed an excuse.

“Are you, happy here? With me, in the cottage, with our lives?” Aziraphale asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Anthony’s brows furrowed and he turned in Aziraphale’s arms so he could face him.

“What makes you ask that angel?” he murmured gently reaching a hand up to cup Aziraphale’s face in his hand. His mind racing of anything that he may have said or done to warrant Aziraphale feeling like he wasn’t happy with their life.

“Just, just wondering, wanted to make sure that everything was, good, for you.” Aziraphale stuttered slightly, a blush creeping onto his face.

“Aziraphale, I love you, and that’s the beginning, and the end, of everything.” Anthony purred, his golden eyes searching Aziraphale’s face for any signs of upset in that statement.

Aziraphale smiled slowly and his blue eyes shimmered, “That’s F. Scott Fitzgerald.” He chuckled.

Anthony grinned, “Well you open up a bookshop and keep some of the best books here, you can’t expect me not to pick something up sometime. Read a bit here and there.” Anthony teased nudging Aziraphale with his bony hip.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony, and bit his bottom lip, almost hesitant in his next words, choosing them carefully.

“Well dearest, I also wanted to make sure that all your hopes and dreams are coming true. I know you have your greenhouse, and I know we have our shop with the café. Is it enough for you? Do you want more? Do you need more? Are you, happy here, are you happy with me?” Aziraphale’s eyes searched Anthony’s face, flickers of worry flashing in them.

Anthony’s mouth formed a line, and his brows furrowed as he thought over Aziraphale’s question.

Anthony’s hands dropped from Aziraphale’s face, and he reached for his hand. He gently laced his thin fingers with Aziraphale’s plump ones as he led Aziraphale out of the kitchen. Aziraphale wordlessly followed, not wanting to interrupt the train of thought Anthony was on.

Anthony led Aziraphale out of the kitchen, passing the backdoor which led to the backyard with the picnic table, with the giant gnarled tree that gave a perfect canopy of shade, past the little greenhouse that Anthony had been starting to fill with plants.

Anthony led Aziraphale past the dining room, past the bay windows and Aziraphale’s reading and book nook where he was beginning to amass his new collection, the shelving around the window seat perfect for the books he treasured most.  
Past the stone fireplace and oversized sofa where they would bundle up together drinking tea, cocoa, or wine, where they would talk into late hours of the night.  
Past the front door that led to the little gated wooden fence that surrounded their cottage with the thatched roof with stone and buttercream yellow exterior with the big windows with shutters and flower boxes outside.

Anthony led Aziraphale down the hallway to their bedroom where he gently sat him on the bed. Aziraphale looked up at him with confusion, concern painting his face.

Anthony sat next to him on the bed, and turned towards him, reaching out and holding his soft hands in his.

“Aziraphale, I don’t know where this question is coming from, if there’s something I’ve done to make you think that I’m unhappy with any of it. But this life that we have, together, it’s every dream I’ve ever had, come true.” Antony crooned gently.

Aziraphale felt his heart beating harder in his chest, he felt abysmal questioning Anthony’s happiness with their lives, but he wanted to be sure that he wasn’t overlooking any feelings of doubt or wanting he may be having, he needed to be sure. Especially if he was going to ask what he really wanted to ask him.

“You didn’t do anything darling, I just, I just wanted to be sure, wanted to know that you were sure, that you are happy, that this life makes you happy.” Aziraphale murmured cupping Anthony’s face in his plump hand.

“Aziraphale Eden, I can’t imagine anything else, in all the cosmos, that I could possibly want more than what we have. I’m so incredibly happy that I barely recognize my life anymore.” Anthony waved a hand around to emphasize the vastness of his words.

Aziraphale smiled, “I daresay that I feel the same way.” He looked up at Anthony, his cheeks warming.

“Are you sure angel? I want you to be sure too, that you are happy here, with the cottage, with me.” Anthony’s tone changed to a tone of full of earnest.

“Of course I am my beloved, there is nothing I could have imagined in this lifetime, or any lifetime, that I could possibly want more, desire more, than what we have right now.” Aziraphale said breathlessly, gently.

Anthony grinned, “You know, we’ve been here at the cottage for almost a year now.” Anthony treaded carefully.

“And have had the bookshop and café opened for almost the same amount of time.” Aziraphale added with a smile.

“Which have both been successful, well the café in sales, the bookshop in collections.” Anthony snickered giving Aziraphale a teasing wink.

“Oh shush, you foul fiend.” Aziraphale said batting at Anthony with his hand gently.

Anthony laughed, a warmth spreading through him, his eyes roving over Aziraphale, he snaked his arms around his middle, his face resting on his chest. Aziraphale smiled and wrapped his arms around Anthony as well, giving him a sweet embrace. Anthony gave Aziraphale a tight squeeze, feeling grounded, safe, at home in his embrace.

He looked up at Aziraphale from where his head naturally sat as he wrapped around him, and he smiled, “It’s also, been two years since the first time we met.” Anthony murmured.

“So it has, to the day.” Aziraphale said softly, his voice husky and thick.

“Do you remember the zeppoles?” Anthony asked grinning at the memory of the bagful of zeppoles that Aziraphale had given him that first day.

“How could I forget? I was panicked and didn’t know how to keep myself from throwing myself at you, so I practically threw a bag of pastries at you instead.” Aziraphale chuckled, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Anthony’s hair, now at shoulder length again, wavy and the colors of a sunset, each beam of light hitting it and giving off a different hue of red.

Anthony peeked up at Aziraphale, his heart nearly bursting with adoration.

“I knew the moment I saw you angel, the moment you handed me that bag of desserts.” Anthony murmured.

“Knew what dearest?” Aziraphale asked, his hand pausing in his hair, letting his fingers weave through the waves.

Anthony gulped and he held up a single knobby finger to Aziraphale and then reached his long thin body across the bed to his side of the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer. His fingers fumbled as they finally found the black velvet box he had hidden in the drawer and gripped it tightly as he sat back up in the bed.

He looked up at Aziraphale, who was grinning at him curiously.

“I knew, I knew that, you were the one that I wanted to share my life with.” He paused and took Aziraphale’s hand in his free one, “Aziraphale, you have made me feel more complete, more alive, and have shown me the true meaning of happiness. Ever since you gave me all those zeppoles, even before then, the first time I laid my eyes on you I felt something shatter in my soul,” he paused again trying to gather all the thoughts that were swirling quickly in his head.

“The shell I’d been keeping myself in, to protect myself with, to guard myself from my family, it shattered, and I wanted nothing more than to show you my heart, no matter how damaged it was. Hoping, that you would want it.” He sighed, and with his free hand he opened the ring box and with butterflies flapping wildly in his chest whispered, “Aziraphale, though it is damaged, my heart is yours, would you, would you marry me?”

Anthony’s heart clenched in his chest, his breath unreleasing from his lungs, waiting for Aziraphale’s response.

Aziraphale was surprised at Anthony’s question, and he blinked quickly.  
Anthony felt his heart begin to tear as Aziraphale continued to be silent, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly.

Aziraphale shook his head side to side quickly, and then he chuckled, as Anthony felt like his world weas beginning to crumble at Aziraphale’s head shake, he watched as Aziraphale reached toward his and with pocket. Aziraphale pulled out a small velvet ring box and he grinned broadly as he opened it.

“Anthony Crowley, I love you so much, enough to fight for you, compromise for you, and sacrifice myself for you if need be. Enough to show you every day, that I will not harm your heart, to show you how treasured you truly are. Anthony in answer to your question, I will agree, but only, only, if you, in turn marry me.” Aziraphale’s voice wavered as tears brimmed in his eyes.

Anthony felt a wave of surprise wash over him, and then just utter happiness, he smiled broadly.

“Of course I will marry you angel.” Anthony murmured, the tears that had been threatening to fall while he talked slid down his cheeks.

“And so of course, I will marry you my dearest beloved.” Aziraphale crooned, his blue eyes shimmering.

They grinned at each other with thousand-watt smiles, Anthony unclasped his hand from Aziraphale’s and slipped the ring from his ring box. Aziraphale held up his left hand and felt his heart melting as Anthony slid a golden band over his third finger. The ring textured pattern made the under glow of the white gold looked like it was etched in swirls and patterned like clovers.

Aziraphale admired the ring as Anthony slid it on over his finger, it was beautiful and utterly perfect.

“Do you like it?” Anthony asked hesitantly, worried he hadn’t picked one that Aziraphale liked.

“It’s beautiful dearest.” Aziraphale breathed, holding his hand out so he could admire the ring on his finger. He smiled and then looked up at Anthony.

“And now, my darling, may I?” Aziraphale asked gently holding his hand out palm up.

Anthony felt tears surging in his eyes as he held his hand up and gently placed it in Aziraphale’s waiting hand.

Aziraphale took the ring that was nestled delicately in the ring box, and held it carefully in his fingers, he raised Anthony’s hand up and slid the ring on his slender third finger, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckle after the ring was perfectly placed.

Anthony let the tears flow freely from his eyes as he admired the ring that Aziraphale had placed on his finger, a silver and copper ring, the materials fused together fabricating a perfect band. Engraved along the edges of the ring were little six petaled flowers connected by swirling stems and leaves.

“Do you like it my beloved?” Aziraphale asked, reaching up and wiping the tears from Anthony’s cheeks.

“Oh angel, it’s perfect.” Anthony sighed, breathing in sharply as he caught his breath, letting the tears flow freely.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Anthony and pulled him close to his chest, Anthony nestled his face in Aziraphale’s neck, and felt Aziraphale run his plump hand up and down his back soothing him gently. Aziraphale gently began to sway side to side placing gentle kisses on Anthony’s forehead as Anthony caught his breath and finish wiped the last tears from his eyes.

Anthony sat up and looked at Aziraphale, his golden eyes searching his beautiful face, unable to keep the smile from his lips. A mirror image of the smile playing across Aziraphale’s.

“My dear, you’ve made me the happiest man.” Aziraphale sighed happily.

“You’ve made me the happiest man angel; I can’t remember a time I was happier.” Anthony crooned reaching forward to kiss Aziraphale.

“Nor can I my darling.” Aziraphale felt his own eyes brimming with tears now.

Anthony reached up and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him closely to his bird-like chest, letting Aziraphale tear and sniffle into his shirt as much as he needed. He threaded his fingers through the golden curls haloing his head.

Aziraphale sat up a few moments later and sniffed, tugging at his shirt, “Well dearest, perhaps we should celebrate, eat that beautiful dinner you cooked, as well as open a new bottle of wine.” He suggested with a grin.

Anthony nodded, and they held hands as they walked from the bedroom to the kitchen.

They sat together at the table and ate the dinner that Anthony had cooked, not able to keep from smiling at each other the entire time.

After dinner, they sat together in front of the fireplace under a throw blanket, nestled together on the sofa, the fire crackling and warming them.

Aziraphale rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder, “My dear?” he asked gently, not sure if Anthony was still awake or not.

“Mm?” Anthony hummed sleepily.

“I love you, so very much.” Aziraphale murmured, his eyelids heavy on his gaze.

Anthony smiled, “I love you too angel.” Anthony sighed happily, resting his head on top of Aziraphale’s, gently caressing Aziraphale’s shoulder with his thumb.

Anthony chuckled, his chest shaking causing Aziraphale to stir slightly, “Dear?” He asked his tone half awake.

“Just thinking of when we first met, all those damn zeppoles, so sweet, we should have them at the wedding.” Anthony said, his tone heavy with sleep.

Aziraphale nodded, “Yes that would be perfect darling.” He murmured his own tone washed with the deep fuzziness that accompanied slumber.

“They’re the sweetest when you make them, I always muck up the filling.” Anthony yawned, his jaw popping as the yawn escaped his lips. His eyelids heavy, falling over his golden gaze letting the warmth overtake him as he fell into a slumber.

“True, but you know darling,” Aziraphale yawned, “The sweetest thing in life is love.” He murmured as his eyes closed and a small snore escaped his lips.

The glow from the small flames in the fireplace set out a warmth in the room that gently lulled them into that land of slumber, where every dream seems too magical to be real, and too real to be merely a dance of the imagination.

A feeling of love, the wave of soothing warmth washed over them, a warmth that you can’t get from a fire. The gentle glow in the room glimmered and danced along their promises of love for all of their lives and existence. Their promises to each other resting on a precipice of their entwined hands. They were still perfectly placed, unmoving, the rings encircling their fingers, eternity promised in the bands.  
An everlasting promise, for an everlasting love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for reading this fic. It started as a simple AU and turned into the longest fic I've written (so far), as well as the longest thing I've written since I was a kid discovering my love of writing for the first time.
> 
> Thank you all for each and every comment that you've left, and each and every kudos that you've given. They are what kept me going, made me smile, gave me motivation and validation... I treasure each of them and i think of you frequent commenters often wondering how you're doing.
> 
> If you want to my tumblr name is the same as this one, feel completely free to interact with me there as well if you so choose. 
> 
> Thank you all so much, I adore you all.


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